Gently Up The Stream
by TheWayfaringStranger
Summary: Season 5&6 spoilers, Pete's World. When the crack in Amelia Pond's bedroom appears on their earth too, the human Doctor and Rose have to save their own universe. Rose, 10.5, Harriet Jones, aliens, Amelia, Rory, River Song, the Silence, Bad Wolf, and lastly, the Eleventh Doctor. We're there now. Latest chapters: 22, 23.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Spoilers for Season 5. **Set in Pete's World, the part-human Doctor and Rose have to head off disaster as the crack in Amelia Pond's bedroom appears on their earth as well. As much as possible, the solution for their problem is what I could borrow from the TV canon. And, in my Pete's World, Rose and the Doctor do NOT have the TARDIS (I prefer writing them that way), and this story can be read as a continuation of "The Distance to Here", my previous fic. You do not have to read the other to know what's going on here, but it may save some guesswork as to what's happened so far between them since Journey's End. I'm keeping the rating M to be safe, because ultimately Rose and this Doctor will find where the 11th Doctor went when he sealed the cracks in Amy's world, with himself on the other side...

**Gently Up the Stream**

**The Countdown**

It had been such an ordinary morning. He'd had breakfast with Rose, then they'd made their ordinary, usual way to work, when Pete Tyler paged the Doctor to see him in his Torchwood office about "something alien and technical." The Doctor had thought there was nothing special about that. He'd given Rose an ordinary kiss and ordinary hug before taking the ordinary elevator up the Torchwood tower. Knocked on Pete's ordinary door and walked into his ordinary office before staring at Pete's screen at what was not so ordinary after all.

The part-human Doctor had thought he was mostly used to this body with only one heart, but the sensation of all blood draining from his face was decidedly new and unpleasant.

"When did this first appear?" asked the Doctor, eyes fixed upon the sight of a glowing line in the shape of a smile, hanging in mid-air like a menacing smirk. Pete's screen showed an urban setting that seemed somehow familiar to the Doctor, like he'd been there before, even if this spot had temporarily been cordoned off (from a public space, he presumed) with construction site hoarding.

"Someone from the public phoned it in late last night," said Pete. "I had a team go down there to hide it from the public. It looks like a construction site now, but it's secured, and we do have the cameras."

"Our sensors pick up any readings?"

Pete hit a key on the keyboard, and another screen flashed to life on Pete's desk, showing numbers that did not make the Doctor feel any better. He sank back into the chair, only realizing now that somehow he was in Pete's chair, and he didn't remember when he'd sat down.

"What is that, Doctor? Or, I should say, what are they? There _are_ two of them."

"Two?" The Doctor heard himself ask faintly. "Where?" Suddenly the sound of his single heart was too loud, and there was a rush of blood and accompanying adrenaline through his body that almost hurt. He knew what Pete Tyler was going to say, and did not want to hear them, but the words came anyway:

"Downtown London and _Dalig Ulv Stranden_."

* * *

Almost four years of _being_ with her, her touch still managed to both thrill and comfort him. Rose slipped her hand into his, and as their fingers intertwined, the cool, hard press of her silver ring was an added, welcome balm. A reminder that whatever they faced, _they_ faced it together.

So why did it feel like his world was about to fall apart? He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight that was right before him: a shining white crack in the universe, suspended in the air, leering at him. An impossible thing. But there it was anyway. If he took a few steps forward he could touch it...

"So," said Rose. They stood in silence for a moment, an unnatural calm amidst the sounds of London (Pete's World) around them. They didn't need to be able to read each other's minds to know the other was wrapped in memory—the last time they'd been in this same spot, it was with the TARDIS. Then, they'd had to say goodbye to Mickey and Pete Tyler for what they'd thought was forever.

"What does it mean?" There was a shiver in Rose's voice. "What does it mean that this...thing has appeared wherever the TARDIS has been in this universe?"

The Doctor looked at her. Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth, the Valiant Child grown up into a woman and usually so assured, was biting her lip and fidgeting on her feet, like she didn't know whether to run toward, or from, the anomaly. She took a hesitant step closer—and the Doctor, in a panic, squeezed her hand and pulled her back.

"No," croaked the Doctor. He took a deep breath, and Rose gave him that moment to compose his thoughts, to add, "It's bad, Rose. The others—" he referred to the other Torchwood agents who had been there with him earlier, before she'd joined him "—I didn't let any of them touch it. Tim, though, on a hunch, threw a radiation-counter at it..." His voice trailed off.

"What happened?" prompted Rose.

"That's just it. It's like it never happened. He forgot about it; forgot why or that he ever did it. None of the others remembered, either. I was the only one, Rose. Once it touched, that crack erased that object from ever existing."

"Erased? From _existence?"_ Rose caught on fast. She always had. She took her hand out of his, giving the Doctor a reassuring nod that she would not approach it. He watched as she circled it warily from six feet away, as he had done earlier. Then she picked up a stray empty drink can and lobbed it at the crack. It disappeared in a small flash.

Rose blinked. "Well, I still remember that," she said, and the Doctor sighed in relief, though he didn't completely understand why. "Why do _we_ remember?" asked Rose.

Her question galvanised him into nervous energy. Hands in his pockets, he paced back and forth as he thought aloud. "It's related to the TARDIS. This only appears where the TARDIS has been. And we've been in the TARDIS. Maybe that's all that's needed to see something get erased. We've traveled space and time. We've traveled _universes. _It must be that we've been in the TARDIS, or that we've traveled that allows us to see. Or both. We could certainly test it, with your dad..."

"We could. Though if I had to guess, I think it's connected to the TARDIS. Doctor, y_ou_ were connected to the TARDIS. Can you, I don't know, _feel_ anything right now?"

"No," he said, a little too loudly and too quickly. He growled in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. "Can you? For that matter. I just... I wonder if the crack in Norway would be any different—"

"I'm not going back there," Rose said flatly, which surprised the Doctor not at all.

"Alright, but I could..."

"Doctor." She used That Tone. She stood before him, then gripped his hands firmly. "Something's happened to the TARDIS, yeah? What could have happened to lead to _this? _I know it has to be bad. So tell me how bad. Is the TARDIS destroyed?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I know this is going to sound pedantic, Rose, but I swear, there are several ways to destroy the TARDIS and none of the ways I know of would lead to this result."

"What _is_ this result? You don't think it's a way to get back to our own universe? What if you or I were to touch it? Maybe we'd just... appear on the other side..."

_Are you trying to leave me for _him_ already? _thought the Doctor, regretting it immediately, knowing that Rose could hear his unspoken question. Her face darkened, and aloud he said:"It doesn't work that way. Not with total erasure from the history of the universe you're leaving. There would be no you to appear on the other side. You'd just be erased, completely. Time's being unwritten. It doesn't make sense." The Doctor shook his head again. Coherency of thought seemed to be fleeing him. His mind was a whirl of emotions, with fear dominating. The crack shouldn't have been there. At all. And now that they were here, he didn't know what it meant, beyond the very real possibility he could lose everything he now had. He could lose Rose.

Rose's face was unreadable. "I'm just trying to understand the possibilities," she said. "We _are_ Torchwood."

The Doctor wasn't reassured. And he didn't know whether to feel despair or relief when Rose turned away from him, breaking their contact and drawing her phone out of her pocket. He watched silently as Rose called Torchwood headquarters and asked for the Dimension Cannon. It was a good call on her part; the cannon's ability to measure timelines had the possibility of revealing more about the anomaly, but it did little to comfort him to know it was same device she'd used to walk through the universes to find him... the _other_ him.

"Bloody fool," said the Doctor, though whether he meant himself or his fully timelord counterpart, he wasn't sure.

Rose raised her eyebrow at him. It seemed her ears had heard that. She put away her phone and took his hand. "You're not losing me. We're going to fix this," she said, "and leaving you is not on my agenda. I said 'Forever.' Remember?"

_That wasn't me_, he wanted to say. But Rose had moved on.

"These cracks. Is there any way they'll get bigger, you think? Or more dangerous? Can we close them? Even if we know the cause is likely coming from the other world..."

"I don't... know." But she was asking good questions. The right questions. Defender of the Earth questions. "I need to think." He rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why his brain had taken sudden departure, why his hands were starting to tremble, why dread was squeezing his heart and sounding _doom, doom, doom_ in his chest. Something that was obvious was eluding them, both of them.

Rose was looking at him worriedly, and once again he shook his head.

"Rose, I'm missing something," admitted the Doctor. He stared at his own hands. The answer seemed to be just beyond his grasp, taunting him. "I can't think of any way the TARDIS could leave these cracks behind in this universe without leaving them everywhere in the other universe..."

He heard a little gasp from Rose, and replayed what he'd said in his head. _Everywhere in the other universe... _The realization hit him with a groan: Whatever had happened to the TARDIS, if these cracks were everywhere and everywhen in the other universe, then that universe was facing_ a collapse into nonexistence._

"Bloody fool," said the Doctor again, and this time he knew he meant the _other _him.


	2. Chapter 2

**T Minus 137 Days, 8 Hours, 20 Minutes (and 18 seconds, and counting)**

"I have coordinates," said the Doctor.

Rose and Pete Tyler looked up from the table before them as one. They were in a makeshift container office at the "Downtown Construction Site", which the Doctor thought was an ironic name when the "Downtown Site of Impending Complete Destruction" would have been more appropriate. Then again, it _was_ a mouthful.

"Cough it up then," said Pete.

"Well, bear in mind I'm going by memory of the other universe's geographical coordinates here..." said the Doctor.

Rose gave him a look that his little act of modesty was convincing no one. And she was right. He was fairly certain.

"It's a small town outside of London. I can't name which. And the date is 26th of June, 2010."

"That long ago?" said Pete Tyler. "Wait..."

"We're faster here, Dad," reminded Rose.

"Right, right. Has it happened yet there, then?"

"No," answered Rose and the Doctor together. Rose's gaze flickered to the Doctor before she looked away again.

"How much time do we have?" asked Pete, either ignoring or oblivious to the tiny exchange between Rose and the Doctor.

"Do you want our time, or the other universe's time?"

"The more practical one, Doctor. Ours."

"_Well_... As we get closer, I'll be more certain, but, approximately... A hundred and thirty-seven days, eight hours and twenty minutes."

"Can't you get more accurate than that?" Pete asked, while Rose managed a little upward quirk of her lips at her father's joke. "What happens at those coordinates?"

"_Well... _to really _understate_ it," said the Doctor, 'It's a very, very, very, _very_ complicated space-time event."

Rose and Pete sat staring at him, expecting more.

"Beyond it being related to the TARDIS, I don't know exactly, yet," admitted the Doctor. "But I do know how to close the crack."

"How?" asked Rose.

"With another very, very, very, _very_ complicated space-time event."

It took a moment for Pete Tyler to realise the Doctor wasn't joking. "Right," said Pete. "For example...?"

The Doctor took a moment to answer, choosing his words carefully. "Say, a time traveler. Someone's who been in and out of time, who's jumped and affected timelines in multiple places. A _lot. _As I said, it needs to be very, very, very, _very _complicated. If not a person, then any object that has."

"The Dimension Cannon?" suggested Rose.

The Doctor shook his head. "It is complicated, but not enough, and it hasn't traveled in time."

They considered in silence. Rose broke it first.

"If you're talking very, very, very, _very_ complicated, do you mean someone like you?" she asked in a low voice.

The Doctor gazed at the wood grain of the table between them. It was a question he had been expecting. "Yes... or possibly, no. The, er, other Doctor would fit, for certain. But_ me_..." The Doctor lapsed into silence. The implications were clear. He had the mind and memories of a timelord, but this particular body was much...newer.

"I just wanted to know how very, very, very, _very_ complicated we're talking about." Rose sighed.

"I know."

"So. Would _I_ be a complicated enough event?"

"You're not going anywhere!" barked Pete Tyler, saving the Doctor from saying it.

"Just a question, Dad," Rose said in exasperation, not taking her eyes off the Doctor.

That was the other question he'd been dreading, and he couldn't lie. Rose Tyler, who'd caused paradoxes and reapers and had taken the Vortex into herself, leaving clues throughout time and space, and who had walked universes and caused Donna's death in a future that now had never happened?

"Yes, possibly," said the Doctor, while Pete was now in full Father Mode, lashing out with "No one's sealing any cracks in the universe today, not with _people!"_

"It was _just a question_, Dad!" Rose flared. "It's not like I want anyone of us to be, you know, _cosmic plaster._ I just needed to understand it."

"Just to be crystal clear, it's my order that no one's going near that bloody thing, not when we have one hundred and thirty-whatever days—"

"Thirty-seven," said the Doctor helpfully.

"Thirty-seven days to figure it out. Well, I'd like to assume it's not going to get worse before then..." Pete looked at the Doctor, brows raised.

"It's stable for now," was all the Doctor could manage truthfully.

Pete grunted. "'Stable for now,' he says." He glared at his daughter, then at the Doctor. "It's useless for me to order either one of you off this case, isn't it?"

Rose smiled. "Pretty much."

Pete sighed, and looked very old, and passed his hand over a pate that was almost now bald. "You two, you just_ had_ to join Torchwood, _and _become my best agents." He growled low in his throat. "So, let's play best-case-worst-case scenarios. What happens when we get to one hundred and thirty-seven days and...?"

"Eight hours and seventeen minutes," supplied the Doctor.

"Yeah. If nothing can be done about it, what happens?"

"The other universe collapses. It may not happen all at once. But once it starts, there's almost no way to stop it..."

"How does that affect us?"

"Two cracks in this universe may not be enough to destroy this one. But this universe _will _be affected."

"How?"

"Time and matter will be drawn to, and lost through, the cracks. Relatively slowly in the scheme of the whole universe. But this earth itself? Possibly in our own lifetimes."

"Bloody hell!" said Pete.

"On the bright side, whatever disappears, we wouldn't even know of it," the Doctor said without smiling. "Time will be rewritten. Unwritten, actually, for the things that are lost."

"Huhm," said Pete.

Rose caught the Doctor's eye. The Doctor was aware that she knew: If the other universe collapsed, Rose, the Doctor, and Jackie (and Tony) Tyler would vanish immediately without Pete ever knowing it. The Doctor grimly gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"So that's the worst case," Rose spoke up. "Best case scenario is that the cracks are sealed before the event, right? Or we stop the event. And it will be fine?"

"Yes to the first. Impossible, the second. We can't stop the event," said the Doctor. "We have to think of the event as having already happened. The fact we're seeing the cracks means the event _will_ happen, or has happened. Otherwise, we wouldn't see them."

"So we need two very very very _very _complicated space-time events. Just to save this universe. Alright, next-best-case scenario," said Rose. "The other Doctor fixes the cracks in both universes after the event. We don't know how yet, but he has to. Otherwise, as you said, the other universe collapses."

The two men in the room were silent. Rose looked at both of them not without a bit of defiance.

"We can hope for that," Pete spoke up. "As Torchwood, however, we need a plan for if he can't fix them. For all we know— " Pete suddenly stopped himself, realizing where that sentence led and how it would affect Rose.

Rose looked blankly at Pete Tyler. "What? 'For all we know'?"

Pete stayed silent.

The Doctor saved Pete the trouble. "For all we know, this could all be happening because the Doctor couldn't stop it." It felt odd, like he was referring to himself in third person, although he knew they all clearly understood he referred to his counterpart. "I'm sorry, Rose."

Her jaw was set. They watched her take a deep breath and withdraw into herself, thinking.

Pete turned to the Doctor. "We can work on more ideas as we go along. Is there anything else you can tell us, for now?"

"You're caught up on everything I know," said the Doctor.

Pete nodded and stood up to leave. He took the Doctor's arm, saying, "I know I don't have to say it, but take care of her."

The Doctor nodded, his eyes on Rose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, unless something else comes up sooner. Let me know of anything you need." And then Pete left, shutting the door of the temporary office behind him.

Gingerly, the Doctor walked over and took the seat Pete had vacated. He sat in silence next to Rose.

"I'm not a child," said Rose, and sighed. "You two don't have to protect me, and definitely not from bad news."

The Doctor simply nodded. Rose seemed to notice his silence, and gave a wry smile. "Permission to speak," she said.

He gave a little answering smile. Her hands were on the table, and he took one of them in his. With their matching rings, there was little he could hide from her. Words had long started to feel unnecessary, around her. "You're worried about what's going on in the other universe. I know I shouldn't be jealous of him," said the Doctor. "But I am worried about _you."_

"Me?"

"He's _me_, and I think you worry about me too much," the Doctor tried to say light-heartedly, running a hand through his hair, now speckled with a few greys.

He finally saw a spark of light in her eyes, made brighter by her small smile. She gave him a warm, if short, kiss that made him feel a little better. "Comfort me then," she said, moving to nestle against him and resting her head against his chest. Obligingly he wrapped his arms around her. "Tell me he'll be alright."

"He'll be alright."

"Why do I get the feeling you're just saying that?"

"Because you told me to, Ma'am." When Rose had no answer, the Doctor rested his chin lightly on the top of her head._ "Well,_ he should be alright. Brilliant timelord brain and all that. Been through plenty of scrapes, and survived them all. Nearly a millenium's worth. And not by accident." He didn't voice aloud that at times, in the other body and other universe, he'd felt so old, so alone, and so tired.

"Can we really do anything on this side? To protect us from collapse, or even to help him...?"

"Well, we need two complicated space-time events to head off danger on this side. At least we know what we need, even if I have yet to know where they're going to come from. More than that, I can't promise anything, Rose. Not until we know more."

"It'll come. Because you're brilliant."

"I am that," said the Doctor modestly.


	3. Chapter 3

**T Minus 88 Days, 9 Hours, 56 Minutes (and 02 seconds, and counting)**

Rose finally gave into temptation and lay down across the foot of her parents' bed. It felt good to stretch out her muscles. She watched wearily as her mother stood in front of the full-length mirror and held one up one evening frock to herself, then another, while a stream of words floated above her head that Rose didn't need to pay attention to to know what Jackie Tyler was asking: Which one to wear?

"This was your emergency?" Rose asked, rubbing her eyes. She stopped herself from grabbing a pillow and snuggling it.

"Watch that tone, and of course it's an emergency. This is the President's Christmas Ball we're talking about! I only have two more hours to decide! Speaking of which, why aren't you changed out of your work clothes? And which should it be? The silver? Or tan?"

Rose yawned. "I'm not going." And she really should have known to expect this. The Christmas Ball was every year, and every year, Jackie had the same emergency. "Which one haven't you worn before, mum?"

"Not going! Why not? And neither of these. I got them both last week when I couldn't decide."

Rose groaned. "I'm too tired—someone's had to keep an eye on that space-time breach I told you about. Not to mention the experiments the Doctor's been running. I like the silver."

"You don't think it makes me look like a disco ball?"

Rose suppressed a snigger. "Fine then, the brown one."

"You mean the tan. It makes me look old... Anything new on that space-time thing, then?"

"We're still... stalled on the solution. He's missing materials and technology he says Earth just doesn't have. And we heard back from Geneva. They said the Doctor's crazy and he's barred from CERN for life. It doesn't make you look old. It's classy."

Jackie sniffed. "I don't know why I let that shopgirl talk me into this one."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "It does look more age appropriate..."

"Did you just call me aged?"

"_Mum!"_ This time Rose did bury her face in a pillow. She closed her eyes, tempted to just give in to sleep, right here. Days and nights of watching the Doctor work doggedly, with Rose as his main helper and witness, had been taking their toll. Even when she closed her eyes, she could see the smile-shaped crack in her mind, shining with menace.

"Should I get someone to bring you a cup of coffee? You can't fall asleep on me, I have to have your opinion on which necklace to wear, too."

Rose waved her hand at her mum like a white flag, without looking up. "Just tell me what you want to wear and I'll say it," she mumbled into the pillow.

"Hmph," said Jackie Tyler. "Alright. I'll tell your father you chose the silver."

* * *

It was much later when Rose got back to the container office on the Downtown Site of Impending Complete Destruction (though the small space was really more laboratory than office now). The lights were low, the main illumination in the container coming from three monitors: One showing the space-time crack outside, one with the real-time readings from their instruments, and one tuned to a television Christmas special (volume muted). Tim, seated with his feet up and watching the monitors, looked up and acknowledged Rose's arrival with a nod. On the other side of the office/lab, the Doctor was comatose (and softly snoring) next to the oversized Dimension Canon, with his head on the conference table, and his new sonic screwdriver hanging loosely from his fingers.

Rose set down the bags she was carrying and shrugged off her winter coat. After removing her gloves, she gently caught the Doctor's screwdriver before putting it in his coat, that was slung over the chair. Then she lay the coat over his slumbering body.

"Hot cocoa?" she whispered to Tim. The Torchwood agent answered with a bright smile and approached the table quietly. Rose found the Thermos in her bag and poured the steaming drink into Tim's proffered mug. She had to remember to thank her mum and Delia for packing that for her.

"You didn't miss anything," whispered Tim between sips of cocoa. "He fell asleep about an hour ago. That was about it."

Rose nodded. "I've got some supper here, if you want. Though I'll understand if you just want to get out of here. Just call and make sure Lynn and David are on time for their next shift to take over."

Tim nodded. "If you don't mind, I will do that. Thanks, Rose."

"Sorry to make you work during the holidays."

Tim shrugged, smiling before he finished the cocoa. "We're Torchwood. Besides, you two work harder than the rest of us."

Rose had no answer to that. She unpacked her dinner of sandwiches, soup and crisps, and waved at Tim when he left. She brought her food over to the monitors, taking the seat Tim had vacated, and tried to eat as quietly as she could. As it happened, the Doctor woke up with a soft snort when she was halfway through her meal.

"Good morning, Starshine," said Rose with a smile.

"Rose!" The Doctor said. "Ah!" His glasses sat crookedly on his face and he set them to rights, then got up and stretched a little. He looked around, turned another light on, and seemed to note they were alone. "I guess I needed that nap," he said a little sheepishly. Sleep was something he didn't like needing, Rose knew. But it _was_ part of being human. "Is that food?" he sniffed the air and started poking at the bags before Rose could even answer.

"Yeah," she said. "Mum got Delia to pack those for us. Though she didn't let me go without a lecture."

"What else is new?" the Doctor said, but shut up when he spotted Rose's obligatory frown. "What did you need a lecture for?"

"How rude it was for me to miss a party, especially when it's the President's. I did tell her nobody there would miss the two of us. My dad's the important one."

"Party? When? It's not Christmas yet. I can't believe Delia made alphabet soup. This is brilliant!"

"Right now. The President's Christmas Ball. On the eve of the eve," said Rose. "And yeah, Delia made that just for you." She rolled her eyes in amusement.

"That was the President's party last year with the spruce trees someone had tinkered with to make them grow purple, wasn't it?" The Doctor seemed to smile at the memory.

"Yeah," said Rose, around a mouthful of egg sandwich. She hoped this conversation wasn't going where she thought it was going...

"That was lovely. Purple spruces instead of blue! I thought they looked happier. And J.K. Rowling! We met! Granted it was the Pete's World J.K. Rowling and I didn't like the books here as much but..."

"I remember," said Rose.

"And meeting Harriet Jones is always weird, in this universe..."

"Yeah," said Rose, noting how the Doctor's energy seemed to be fully returned, if only to judge by the speed of his words and the rate of the topic change. She sighed. "Did you want to go, or something?"

"I was just thinking, if I could talk to the Swiss or maybe the French ambassadors..."

"I don't know why that didn't occur to me," sighed Rose. "Well, the invites are in the zeppelin. As is your tux, as I recall. Off you go, then." She waved vaguely in the direction where their airship was usually parked.

The Doctor's face fell. "You won't come with me?"

"I wasn't planning to," said Rose, a little apologetically. She did truly regret it; the Doctor in his tux was always a sight. "Didn't think I'd have the energy. Besides, I can't go like this—" she waved at her work clothes, now covered in crumbs "—while for you it's just hop into your tux and go. So go. You need to _shmooze_ the ambassadors." Rose smiled. "I think I recall the Swiss one was pretty attractive."

The Doctor gave a pout. "You could be a little more possessive of me."

Rose grinned. "I could, but I also know my mum and dad are going to be at the party. Keep that in mind."

The Doctor frowned, then turned his attention back to his soup and finished it as fast as he could. "I'll be back as soon as I—"

He was interrupted by Rose's phone ringing. The timing of it made Rose's hair stand on end—something was up. She drew out her phone and looked at it; Her father, likely be calling from the Christmas Ball. With a meaningful look at the Doctor, she took the call.

"Dad?"

"Rose. The Doctor's with you?"

"Yeah he is."

"Get him here—the President's place. We've got first contact here at the Christmas Ball. Someone—some new things came here, and have taken the President hostage. And they are asking about the cracks."


	4. Chapter 4

**T Minus 88 Days, 4 Hours, 3 Minutes (and 32 seconds, and counting)**

"What's keeping you so long?" Rose tried to keep the impatience out of her voice as she manually parked the zeppelin. She had to project her voice toward their airship's converted bedroom, into which the Doctor had shut himself for the last five minutes. She hadn't even wanted to travel by airship. She would have chosen Torchwood's emergency teleport to get to the President's (and her father's) side if the Doctor hadn't _insisted_ on taking the zeppelin, arguing they were just minutes away anyway.

"I'm going to go without you," she threatened, and quickly opened a number-locked compartment, grabbing a tiny ray gun that she tucked into her coat's inner pocket. She re-locked the compartment, ignoring the tiny voice reminding her how much the Doctor _hated_ guns. No one was forcing or expecting _him_ to use one. Rose was another matter.

"Last call," she said as she opened the cabin door and extended the gangplank.

"I'm coming!" called the Doctor.

But Rose was already on her way, down the gangplank and striding quickly past the balloons and spruces (blue) hung with Christmas decorations that lined the red carpet approach to the President's Christmas Ball. She noted the absence of a valet. The imposing front doors of the grand building were currently wide open, guarded by several frazzled security personnel who waved her through when Rose flashed them her Torchwood card. It was then the Doctor caught up with her, panting from his run. Rose only gave him a sidelong glance, then paused momentarily in disbelief. "You changed into your _tux?"_

He was still fiddling with his bowtie. "It's a fancy party."

"Not anymore—the President's been taken hostage!"

The Doctor was unapologetic. "First impressions count."

"You and the President have met. The_ two _of them—"

"First impression for the _aliens,_" the Doctor looked at her as if she was daft.

"The_ President's _been taken_ hostage!"_

"Rose, it's _Harriet Jones._ The way she is, I'd be surprised if _she _hasn't taken the aliens hostage by now."

He had a point. Rose pressed her lips together, concentrating on surveying their surroundings. They had walked through nearly to the ballroom without encountering anyone else. Even if the guests had fled, the building shouldn't have been this empty.

The Doctor stopped in his tracks. "Are we at the right place?"

"We are. I recognise it. We both should. But it's like the party's been moved..."

The Doctor beamed. "Of course! Come on, Rose," he grabbed her hand and tugged her into the ballroom. "Alien transmat!"

Of course. She probably would have thought of it if the Doctor hadn't been quicker. She stepped into the ballroom with him, bracing herself, a little thankful for the warning as the world went away for a second. The small room they were transported to was much darker, somber, metallic and gray after the brightness and colour of a ballroom decked out for Christmas. The threatening eight-foot-tall armoured insect standing before them didn't help. It was holding what was clearly a weapon in two of its limbs, while it stood "upright" on four hind ones. Rose tried not to shudder at its mandibles, loudly clicking in the silence of the room.

"Hello," said the Doctor brightly. "I am the Doctor and this is Rose Tyler. Take us to your leader."

Despite herself, Rose rolled her eyes. Then she froze as the alien suddenly extended long, powerful limbs, hard and sharp, that ended in blade-like points, and used these to gently pat down her clothes. One of the points rested upon Rose's coat where she had hidden her gun. Slowly, she reached in, removed the weapon, and dropped it onto the floor. She didn't have to turn her head to see the Doctor's disapproving look. The Doctor was next, and when the alien paused at his coat pocket, he airily waved it off. "My writing tool. It can't do anything against your exoskeletons. Give me this one little indulgence, if you don't mind. It has sentimental value."

Hesitantly, the alien withdrew.

"Come with me." The words, that sounded pre-recorded and varied in pitch and quality, came from a box mounted high on the alien's chest. Tiny controls on the box were manipulated by smaller limbs emerging from the neck of the alien, that Rose had thought were whiskers. As the alien turned around and walked down a hallway, Rose realised it still had them within its sights—compound eyes were mounted at the top of its head that gave it a 360-degree view all around.

She gripped the Doctor's hand tightly, grateful for his presence, worried by the turn of events. Somewhere on this ship were her father and mum. Torchwood headquarters had been alerted, of course, but now Torchwood headquarter was far far away (she assumed they were in space), far down below them. If anything went wrong, Tony Tyler was going to left all alone.

"This is a beautiful ship," said the Doctor admiringly, looking around. His eyes paused on Rose's face for a moment, serious. His hand squeezed hers reassuringly, at the same time he wiggled one of his fingers deliberately to tap on her ring finger. Rose gave the tiniest of nods.

They didn't have far to walk. Before long, the passageway opened into a large circular hall with multiple entrances, where the ceiling was impossibly high and clear with a beautiful view to the stars. Closer to the floor, the atmosphere was grim, with a circle of armed, tall guards surrounding the hall, weapons trained on the nervous party-goers, about fifty of them, who sat gingerly on sloped blocks arranged in concentric rings. It was an audience hall, Rose realised, though the seats had never been made for humans.

As soon as Rose and the Doctor within sight, murmurs among the humans grew in volume. "Rose!" Jackie called. Rose shook her head at her mum to urge her to stay in place. Pete stood up and came forward, and was about to say something when a familiar voice took command.

"Thank you for coming, Doctor." Harriet Jones, President, strode toward the Doctor as if she owned the ship and was not, in fact, a hostage of the aliens like everyone else.

"Madam President," the Doctor acknowledged with a nod. "I was under the impression it was just you the aliens had taken. I wasn't expecting the whole party to be up here..."

"Well, it _was_ just myself until the aliens decided to beam up everyone in the ballroom. I do wish that hadn't happened." Harriet Jones looked apologetic, and Rose got the impression she'd apologized to the other guests already. She glanced at her father, who only rolled his eyes and looked annoyed.

"What made them decide that?" Rose asked tentatively.

"I did," said President Jones. "I did not mean for this to happen, but they said I was making too many demands and thought the presence of others would keep me in check."

"Ah," said the Doctor, trying to keep amusement off his face.

"They are worried about those cracks, Doctor. I told them all I could, at least all that I could understand and remember, but they were not satisfied, and I'm not the foremost authority on them. You are."

"They're here about the cracks? That's what they travelled here for?"

The aliens surrounding them clicked and chittered in their own language. One of them, that looked larger and more resplendant than the others (and the translucent, outstretched wings helped) appeared from another of the hall's entrances. The other aliens quietened as it used the voice box on its chest: "We came to make you surrender the weapons."

Again, the words were an audio jumble, each one spoken by a different human voice and in varied accents, tone and quality. Rose realised that the aliens just didn't have the vocal chords for human speech and had likely pre-recorded human words from their media broadcasts.

"Weapons?" the Doctor asked cynically. "Which ones? We _are_ talking about humans here."

Rose frowned at him, a frown that was echoed on the President's face.

"They mean the cracks—" whispered Harriet Jones.

"The two weapons of totality you are developing right now," said the leader. "Are you the Doctor?"

"I am," said the Doctor.

"Why are you called..." there was a pregnant pause,"a 'healer'?"

Rose watched as the Doctor worked his jaw silently for a moment. Then his eyes hardened in indignation. "Because if you're calling those anomalies 'weapons', then know that I'm the one trying to disable them."

"Doctor, what d—"

"Ah ah ah," admonished the Doctor, cutting off the alien's words. "Was this mission of yours a diplomatic or military one? You've got us here on your ship on assumptions that may or may not be right, and if we're going to do this properly, and I should remind you that your ship _is_ inside our space and within range of our long-range weapons. It seems to me only fair that we get to ask questions of you as well. You lose nothing and have everything to gain, as one-sided inquisitions don't tend to make humans very helpful."

"That's what I'd said!" whispered Harriet Jones. Rose shot her a look, which did nothing to quell her. "Not in so many words, but..."

"Ask your question, Doctor."

"Introductions first. Who are you?"

"_I _am Viceroy _[clickbuzz] _and General of the _[crrickplizzt]_ 6th Army. We come from a planet we call _[drrriixtplig] _situated in the galaxy you _humans _call the _Canis Major_ Dwarf."

It appeared the communication box that the aliens used left some of their vocabulary untranslated, and hard as Rose had tried, she couldn't quite distinguish the different clicking/buzzing sounds from one another.

"Due to our proximity, we... maintain watch on a few planets in your galaxy, Doctor, and lately we noticed... oddities in the communications signals that reached our unmanned outposts in your system—"

Harriet Jones' indignant voice piped up. "I demand to know where these outposts are that you've used to spy on us..."

"That is not one of my questions," the Doctor quickly interjected over Harriet Jones. "But I suppose it was then you investigated what was causing the interference and found the two anomalies that seem to distort certain radio frequencies. And after investigating further, you realized these things could have the power to erase things from time and space—destruction of such 'totality', as you say, that whatever it touched would never have existed. You reached that conclusion the smart way, probably, with subwaves instead of physical objects that could simply be erased." The Doctor's grim face broke into a sudden bright smile. "You clever, clever things. Did you find all that out only using remote instruments? Of course, don't tell me—again, that's not one of my questions—only tell me how you think humans managed to create these weapons, Viceroy _[clickbuzz], _if you would be so kind._"_

"That was going to be our next question for you, Doctor."

"Really?" The Doctor feigned surprise. "Well, that is a good question. How did humans, who have yet to successfully accomplish interstellar travel, with their little brains—" ("_Oi" _protested Harriet Jones and the Tylers) "—still unable to figure out how to compensate for time while traveling great distances, somehow manage to develop, out of nowhere, not one but _two, _as you call them, _weapons_ that can completely erase objects from time and space, _backwards_?"

The alien did not answer.

"It's a rhetorical question," said the Doctor. "It can't be answered. Because the humans _didn't. _Earth is grappling with the situation of its_ own_ impending destuction with these two cracks in time and space, Viceroy, because, by sheer bad luck, you could say, they were created on this planet by something not human."

There was a long silence before the Viceroy spoke again.

"Do you know what created them?"

"I do," said the Doctor. "Well, no. I just have an idea of it."

"Can you explain?"

The Doctor let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

"There are _universes_, Viceroy. Countless universes out there. Normally unconnected, but... Let us suppose that in one of them, there was a race of beings that learned how to travel through time, space, and the multiverse at will. They grew ships capable of all that... but that same power could be twisted, used carelessly and, potentially, break a ship and cause havoc in its wake. That is what has happened here."

"These beings have been to your planet? They caused these...anomalies?"

"Yes, _one_ has."

"Will they return?"

"No. Now I'd like to ask a question, Viceroy."

"Yes, Doctor."

"What will you do now with this information?"

"I am reporting it back to my Queen, while I stay to observe and wait further orders."

"You're Viceroy. You can make your own decision now as to further orders."

"This is none of your concern."

"It is my concern what happens to us, the people you took in order to get this information. I want to know: Now what will you do with those of us in this room, Viceroy?"

There was a long pause, and as it dragged on, Rose only started to get more nervous. The Doctor merely seemed impatient, but he kept silent, waiting for their answer. Harriet Jones was uncharacteristically quiet as well.

"We will release you. But we will keep you and your President on board this ship for now, Doctor. We have further questions."

"As do I," said the Doctor firmly with a nod. He and the President exchanged glances and seemed agreed. "This is acceptable."

"I'm staying too," said Rose.

"No, Rose. Take the others back down. We'll be fine."

Rose gaped at the Doctor, then felt herself start to fall apart as his eyes brooked no opposition. "Don't you dare send me away," said Rose, fighting the desperation from her voice. "Don't you dare! Not with everything's that's happened to us bef—"

"Rose." The Doctor approached her, his eyes now gentle and serious at the same time. He took her arms in his hands, and repeated, "We'll be fine. I've no intention of doing anything stupid without you." There was an upward quick in the corner of his mouth, and then she heard his voice in her mind: _I need something on this ship, Rose. And I intend to get it. But I need you back on Earth, to keep your family safe, to keep an eye on this ship, to stay in contact with me, and possibly come rescue me and Harriet Jones, too, if I fail. It's a lot to do, Rose, but you'll find a way. Just as I'll find a way back to you._

Rose could only stare and try to keep herself together as her mind stumbled over his words, yet uncomprehending.

_I know it's a lot to ask, Rose, but I trust no one else. Can you do this?_

"Yes," she whispered with numb lips.

Then his lips were on hers, and she kissed him back desperately as love, fear and adrenaline kicked in, heightening her senses to the pressure of his mouth on hers, the hardness of his chest against hers, and his warm hands cradled possessively around her head. Then he withdrew, the kiss ending much too soon.

"You better come back," she gritted through her teeth. Then, quickly, almost pushing him away, she turned away from him and clenched her jaw, regarding the party guests now assembled to leave. The guards had them surrounded and were already leading the guests at the head of the column out of the audience chamber.

Rose felt the Doctor's eyes on her as she followed them and left him behind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the long delay. To recap, last chapter saw Rose and the Doctor on board the alien ship and joining the other hostages there. The Doctor did his thing (talking, a lot), and convinced the alien Viceroy to keep just the Doctor and President Harriet Jones on board, and let the others go back to earth. This chapter is a long one (hopefully not too long) and I apologise in advance for the use of magic—I mean, advanced alien technology—in the form of the Doctor's ring. (The acquisition of the ring is covered in The Distance to Here.)_

**T Minus 88 Days, 3 Hours, 33 Minutes (and 40 seconds, and counting)**

The Doctor exhaled slowly as Rose left his sight, unaware until that moment that he'd been holding his breath against the small ache in his chest. "Well then," he said aloud, more to rally himself together than anything else. Harriet Jones looked at him expectantly, and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He was rewarded with a sceptical look. He turned back to the Viceroy.

"Time for another question, Viceroy," he said. "Just one for curiousity: What _were_ you going to do if we had refused to cooperate even with our information?"

"Our orders in that circumstance were to isolate and neutralise your planet, Doctor."

Harriet Jones scowled, while the Doctor barked a laugh. "'Neutralise'? I can't guess how," he said sarcastically. "Not that it would have done much good."

"Those were the orders."

"Well, they were _silly_ orders. Sillier now that you know we're very much invested in trying to contain the 'anomalies' ourselves, I hope that much is clear."

"I have to excuse myself now, Doctor. But we will continue this conversation later."

"Right." The Doctor waved casually. "Go send in your report. May I suggest that you ask your liege if you could volunteer your technology to help us? The humans are rather far behind..."

"You speak as if you were not one yourself, Doctor."

"A bad habit, I apologise," said the Doctor, not at all apologetically.

"It is strange, since you look exactly like them."

"I—" the Doctor began, then bit his tongue on the words he had been about to say. "I used to travel more widely, and I suppose I have seen much more than the average human, Viceroy. Speaking of which, could we get a tour of the ship, in the meanwhile?" He flashed the friendliest smile he could manage.

"You're free to enjoy your walk from here to the holding cells, Doctor."

It was then Harriet Jones cleared her throat and straightened imperiously to her full height. "I am an elected leader, and a representative of Earth," she said, her voice filling the chamber. "Someone of my status deserves better accommodation, surely, than a _holding cell._ This is basic diplomatic protocol and courtesy, Viceroy, and I am shocked that I should be required to point this out. It sets a bad precedent on both sides for our interactions in the future." Her stare at the alien leader brooked no opposition.

The Doctor hid a smile. "What she said," he agreed, shrugging when the Viceroy looked at him.

The alien hesitated only a moment. "Then I shall have one of my captains vacate his quarters for you." The Viceroy quickly conversed in its own language with one of the guards, and then the latter scuttled off in a hurry, presumably to carry out the order.

"You may follow me then, President Harriet Jones and the Doctor. For you will be located not far from where I will be. I hope this will be sufficient as a tour for you, Doctor."

"For now," the Doctor said graciously.

"Then come with me," said the Viceroy.

* * *

The walk to their new temporary quarters was silent, and the Doctor was grateful for that, concentrating as he was on absorbing and memorizing the details of the ship. He suspected Harriet Jones was much the same, and their only exchanges were only expressionless and furtive glances. The Viceroy himself showed him to their room, and then left. The door shut behind him, and the Doctor didn't even have to check that they were probably locked in. Harriet Jones did, however, and confirmed it for him.

"So, are we prisoners or guests, Doctor?"

"Probably the former," said the Doctor absently, looking around the windowless grey room. It was quite plain, with two narrow doors leading to what looked like smaller antechambers. A small communications panel, dark and silent, was installed into a wall above a desk that looked more like a mantelpiece. The sleeping surface was a sunken depression in the middle of the room, filled with what looked like soft, dry soil. At least, the Doctor guessed it was the bed and not the bathroom. Peeking in one of the antechambers, he saw it was a closet. The other _looked_ like a wetroom, but that was just a guess.

"I have to thank you, Madam President. This may be the nicest holding cell I've ever been in. Even considering that it's not for humans."

"What do we do now, Doctor?"

"Hold that thought." The Doctor approached a wall that looked like it was made up of many smooth and highly reflective marble panels, each one foot square. Some of the panels were translucent and lit from behind them, and provided a soft glow to the room. But it was the dark panels that he regarded, and on a hunch, hooked his nails behind the edges of one, and with a bit of wiggling, pulled it easily enough from the wall.

"Hah," said the Doctor to the surveillance equipment he just revealed.

Harriet Jones gasped behind him. "How did you do that?"

"Human gut instinct," said the Doctor with a grin. "I love it." He put the panel carefully on the floor, then drew his sonic screwdriver out from his pocket. "Not a weapon," he declared happily, waving it at the camera, before he used it to toast the equipment's circuits. Then he replaced the panel, stepped back, and regarded the wall again. "And if you clever things were quick enough..." He chose another panel, pried it off, found nothing, and tried again with the panel next to it. He was right again this time, and disabled the surveillance set found there the same way he had done to the first.

"Two out of three. Not bad. If only Rose had been here to see that," said the Doctor. "Though I did cheat a little looking at the dust prints." He put his sonic screwdriver back in his pocket, replaced the wall panels, then turned to face Harriet Jones, who was staring at him with her arms folded. "What?" he asked.

"_Are_ you human, Doctor?"

"What a question. What do I look like to you?" The Doctor ignored her gaze and pointedly started to examine the communications panel.

"Human. But that doesn't mean that you are. Human."

"What's that charming expression? 'If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck...'"

"—It could still be an alien disguised as a duck."

The Doctor gave a short burst of genuine laughter.

"It's true what the alien Viceroy said, though. You certainly don't quack like a duck, Doctor."

The Doctor sniffed. "I'm just more brilliant than all the humans you know," he said modestly. He tapped a spot on the comm panel, and a keyboard like no earthly one slid smoothly out of the wall, holding what looked like two hundred tiny keys. He reached into his pocket for his glasses, and put them on to peer more closely.

"I've seen your file," continued Harriet Jones. "Educational history, work history, the lot. Accolades from the universities..."

"Well, there you go," said the Doctor.

"Oh, I'm sure Torchwood has no problems making up a history for anyone when they need to."

"_[wrxxtclickyzzt]," _said the Doctor, and the comm screen flashed to life.

"There, what was that? How did you know to do that, Doctor?"

"Told you already. Brilliant."

"Am I to believe that you've now figured out the aliens' language in the short time you've been here?"

"_Well..._ yes, but I've also heard something like it before."

"When?"

"Not important," said the Doctor, busy exploring the alien's computer network, sometimes using vocal commands, sometimes trying the keys, or bypassing both interfaces with the sonic screwdriver. Tree diagrams of moving, changing characters filled the screen, looking like critters themselves. "Oh, that is gorgeous, that," said the Doctor admiringly.

"Do you know that I had an aide ask people at your supposed universities about you, and no one knew you? Including those under whom you would have earned your degrees."

"I kept my head down a lot," said the Doctor, though this line of questioning was now beginning to grate. "Why all this interest in me?"

"You've been...how should I put it... looked into by my staff before, Doctor. You were overheard at my parties, talking about me like I was someone else. It was enough to draw our attention."

The Doctor said nothing, and Harriet Jones continued to probe. "Where do you _really_ come from?"

"What difference does it make? You heard what I said to the Viceroy. I've just seen a lot," the Doctor shrugged.

"Where do your loyalties lie, Doctor?"

"_With Rose,"_ the Doctor snapped.

Harriet Jones, perhaps realizing she'd pushed him too far, now stayed silent. But palpable anticipation hung in the air and made the Doctor sigh.

"And that's the important question, isn't it?" he said, keeping his eyes on the comm panel. "Not where I've come from or where I've been. Or what I've seen. My story's a long one, _Madam President Harriet Jones—" _He glared at her. "—And not one I share often at all. And if it's all right with you, I would like to concentrate now on protecting the planet I am_ stuck on, _with you and Rose and Pete and Jackie Tyler and the rest of you humans who have _no idea _how much I've lost to do so." His voice was cold and hard, astonishing himself. He turned away from Harriet Jones and glared at the screen.

"And let me answer your next question for you," he continued without looking at her. "You wanted to know how I knew about the other universes and how the cracks in time and space were created. How I knew about the people who traveled between worlds. Well, I was one of them. _Once._ I had that ship. _Once._ I don't any more." And with that he shut up and clenched his jaw, resentful to have needed to make that speech. If Rose had been here, she'd likely have defended him without needing to reveal any of his past. Her word would have been enough. And apparently his wasn't, not for Harriet Jones. Not for the Harriet Jones in this universe, just as it hadn't been for the Harriet Jones in the other universe either.

Funny how that worked.

"Things make more sense to me now, Doctor. Am I correct to guess you knew a Harriet Jones in another universe?"

"Full marks," said the Doctor bitterly. "Good for you."

"I'm satisfied," said Harriet Jones, and the Doctor breathed an internal sigh of relief when she followed that with polite silence. The Doctor went back to exploring on the comm panel, and was rewarded shortly after with a 3-dimensional map of the alien ship appearing on the display.

"_Oh,"_ said Harriet Jones in wonder.

The Doctor couldn't resist a proud smile.

"We're here," he said, pointing to the screen. "We were previously in this hall here. And before that, in the transmat room here. The _engine room_ is here," he said, pointing to a spot one-third of the ship's length from them, on a fairly large ship, "And that's where I would like to go, Madam President. I've an idea to solve two problems at once—to take these aliens out of our space, _and_ close those space-time cracks. And we do that, with help from their ship's engine, which is a rather rudimentary warp engine, but a good start for me to work with. And if we're lucky and they're smart, they might even have two, for me to use on each of the cracks. But if they _are_ smart, then it's going to get interesting trying to take these from them."

"This plan of yours, Doctor... involves _stealing?"_

"If you're thinking of the diplomatic option, Madam President, I commend you. But think on this: how likely is it do you think they would hand over the engines powering their _royal warship_, if we asked?"

Harriet Jones was quiet, but it didn't take her long to make a decision.

* * *

"Are you alright, Rose?"

"Mum, for the twentieth time, I'm fine. You can stop asking," said Rose wearily. "Go home to Tony. The babysitter's probably mad with worry by now. I'll be fine." She gave a small smile to her mum, nodded to her dad, then turned away from her parents' car, which was holding up the other cars in front of the President's house. The remaining guests were leaving, and Pete Tyler was driving Jackie back to the Tyler Mansion and had promised to check on Rose at Torchwood One as soon as that was done.

She walked briskly through the cold December air and found the zeppelin still where she had left it. She entered the cabin, trying not to notice the stillness and silence inside. The touch of her fingers on its dashboard brought it to life; she kept her mind deliberately blank as she had the gangplank retracted and the door shut and locked. Then, and only then, alone, did she allow herself to draw in a long and extremely shaky breath.

He was fine. Of course he was fine. He was _the Doctor_. Human, but still the Doctor. Concentrating, she tried to reach his mind using her wedding band, a gift that had been given them that allowed them remote, telepathic communication (and other certain uses), but either she was tired or he was distracted; all she could get was a confused impression that he was in more than one place, and silent.

She tried to still her rapidly beating heart. He had to be fine. Her blood sugar was probably low. This helpless panic and lack of faith was inexcusable. The Doctor had dealt with aliens before.

She programmed the zeppelin's course for the Torchwood tower, then forced herself to step back from the console and look in the pantry. Her eyes quickly skipped over the bananas and peanut butter and snacks, that only reminded her of him. She scowled at the muesli bars, picked one up, then dropped it, choosing instead an instant coffee mix to help keep the cold from her bones—_and_ she suspected she would need the caffeine. A tiny sink provided the water for a small electric kettle, which she plugged in. She gazed without seeing at the view outside the ship, a calm night sky over a quiet and brightly glittering city, with no sign at all of the alien ship above that now held President Harriet Jones and the Doctor, and possibly Earth, in the balance. Soon enough, her water was ready, and the familiar movements of mixing her hot drink and sipping it managed to calm her down a little.

The zeppelin was Rose and the Doctor's, and in a lot of ways, home to them now. It had seemed the most fitting solution, with their schedule and with Jackie's insistence that they returned to the Tyler mansion at least once every week, and _their _insistence that they wanted their own private space. The ship's living space was small but cosy, and it was hard to feel restricted in an airship, with all the windows. And of course they had planned the customisations together, with the Doctor personally handling the engine tweaks himself. For a while, it was almost another TARDIS; with the interior colours and surfaces matching the other, and the Doctor often in the ship's innards, busy with his hands and talking to himself. What was different was sharing the bedroom, that is, when work wasn't pulling them elsewhere.

It was the closest they could get to their old life. And not a bad one. But Rose knew, just she knew her Doctor knew, that every so often, they both thought of the other universe and the other Doctor in it, and what could have, and might have been. They had always danced around the subject, as if to speak of it aloud so was to tread on broken glass. And now, with the space-time breaches, the question of what the other Doctor was doing literally hung in the air all the time. Rose had long realised that if they failed to mend the cracks, she could very well lose both the Doctors, and everyone else she loved.

Rose bit her lip and tried not to think further along that path. She went to the ship's controls again, and a quick glance out the windows revealed the Torchwood Tower. She gulped her coffee down a little faster, balancing herself on the pilot's seat as the airship slowed and a beep from the console notified her she had clearance to dock. She switched to manual controls, then one-handedly landed the ship on the tower's roof, having done this a thousand times before. Reluctantly, she finished her coffee. After a last look around the cabin, she was about to open the door to the outside when, oddly, there seemed to be someone knocking upon it.

"Um, who is it?" asked Rose, hesitating a moment before she remembered she'd been disarmed on the alien ship, and the locked weapons compartment was three steps to the left.

"It's going to take a bit to explain," said a muffled voice.

"Who is it?" Rose asked again, buying time. She had closed the distance to the weapons compartment, and her fingers were poised over the lock.

"The Doctor sent me."

Rose bit her lip, but listened to her instincts and opened the door.

Standing outside was President Harriet Jones, alone and shivering under the Doctor's coat.

* * *

"He said to tell you that he's going 'timey-wimey' for a bit," said Harriet Jones.

"I thought you were going to say that," said Rose with a sigh as she handed the President a mug of hot water as requested. "Did he mean to return you here so soon? I'm going to guess the other, earlier you is still on the alien ship above us."

"That's so wonderfully odd, isn't it? Thank you," said Harriet, before she sipped the liquid slowly. "Yes and no, I suppose. He said I have to stay hidden until it's convenient for those aliens to discover we're gone, but in order to calibrate and test that, that thing he built... what did he call it? He made it out of the aliens' engine parts—"

Rose took a guess. "A Vortex manipulator?"

"Yes, that. He took us _back_ back and we returned to the moment the aliens crashed the Christmas party, but we watched from a different vantage point, of course, and then he dropped me here and timey-wimey-ed off by himself."

"I suppose I should be thankful he's OK... or going to be OK," muttered Rose half to herself.

"This is all so strange to me. It's only been minutes for you since you left the audience chamber, isn't it?"

"Welcome to time travel, Madam President," sighed Rose. Absently, she looked at her hands which held the Doctor's long coat, which Harriet had returned to her. She resisted the urge to stroke the familiar fabric, instead laying it out neatly on the back of a seat. Then she looked at Harriet Jones, who despite the obvious weariness in her face, still sat like she had a straight rule up her back. "I would love to ask you how long it's been for you since that moment, but I won't. Did he have any instructions for me beside keeping you hidden till later?"

"Oh, yes!" Harriet Jones said. Though she was still dressed in formal party finery, the President drew out a tiny digital recording device from a pocket Rose would never have suspected was there. She handed it to Rose.

"He put coordinates on there. And 'hailing frequencies' and sound files for those frequencies which do different things...he explains on there as well."

"He needs the aliens distracted," said Rose.

Harriet Jones stared at her cannily. "You two are quite the pair. Yes...mind you, I have other files on that thing, and I would like that back. I don't like going about without my note-taker."

"Right," said Rose, palming the device. "Could you also let me know who your tailor is?"

"What?"

Rose waved. "Nevermind. Just... pockets. More party frocks should come with them." She looked at the door to the ship. "I should go, Madam President. My staff are going to be wondering why the hell I'm here but not leaving my ship. Though," she cocked her head, "I suppose I could act like I was crying my eyes out or something."

"You don't look the lovesick type, if you don't mind me saying."

Rose smiled a wry smile at Harriet Jones. "I'm too old now. And I have to go create a distraction for you-know-who." She sighed, and waved vaguely around the ship. "Make yourself comfortable, Madam President. It's modest but all I can offer, and you can look at my clothes if you want something warmer that may fit you. That way's the pantry; Bathroom; Bed; Sheets for the bed are behind the panel next to the bed if you'd like a rest. And oh, to contact me—"

"He gave me your number."

"Oh, yeah, good."

Rose was slightly disconcerted when the President gave her a bright, reassuring smile.

"Go on then," said Harriet Jones. "You're going to do a brilliant job, Rose. _I know it._"

* * *

"We still don't need room service," said the Doctor as two aliens peered into the captain's chamber, after the door had seemingly opened by itself for the fifth time, "Unless that door is malfunctioning. You might want to have that checked, else one of us could just go wandering off. Wouldn't make this a very good holding cell, would it?"

The Doctor sat innocently on the edge of the "bed", and waved, fingers wiggling, as the guards once again glared at him and at the President, still in the "guest room" the Viceroy had left them. The Doctor raised his eyebrows innocently as the two guards chittered at each other, before turning away in disgust. One of the Doctor's hands, in his coat pocket, was wrapped around his sonic screwdriver, and the slightest touch from his fingers had been making the main door open and close randomly for the past ten minutes. The Doctor counted to ten before he sent the remote signal to close the doors again, and they did. He turned to his side, giving Harriet Jones a nod before they moved quietly and quickly to the door, flattening themselves to the wall on one side of it.

"Right," whispered the Doctor. "Here we go. Let's try to keep talking to a minimum until I give a signal, alright?"

"Alright."

The Doctor concentrated a moment, and a gasp from Harriet Jones soon confirmed that he had vanished from her sight, and for that matter, so had she.

"How does that work?" breathed Harriet Jones.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, grateful the President couldn't see that. "It's as I explained," he said, sighing, his voice seeming to float out of thin air. "This ring I'm wearing has a variable projection field activated and controlled by psi-effe—look, we really have to get on. I've got a _magic ring _that can make us invisible_, _OK? You ready?"

"Ready."

A touch of his finger on the screwdriver soon had the door opening again, and the two alien guards on the other side seemed to give a grumble, before one of them became wise to their disappearance, and they rushed into the room in alarm. The Doctor slipped out of the room behind them, careful to give Harriet Jones enough clearance to do the same. Another touch, and the door closed on the captain's room and the alien guards in it. The hallway was empty, and the Doctor gave a sigh as he partially dropped the shell of invisibility and the Doctor and Harriet Jones winked into sight again, but only enough to look like pale ghosts. "I hate using that, it feels like cheating," he whispered. "But that worked brilliantly, didn't it?"

"Yes, Doctor," whispered Harriet Jones obligingly. "Now to the right?" she reminded.

"Yeah," he said, snapping his attention back to the job at hand. He kept the map of the ship in the his mind and started running as quietly as he could, with the President following behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **_No villification or insult intended to any country or country's President (even a made-up one in an AU) with this chapter. Just me borrowing an existing (and admittedly lazy/convenient) trope from Doctor Who, and Spooks. If you _are _offended by my cheap trick, the next chapter (the one justifying the story rating) will, I hope, make up for it... And, if I take longer to update, it's because the timey-wimey-ness of the story at this point is getting rather gnarly, because I just_had _to try something as complicated as the canon ending of Season Five. It is all going to wind up either spectacularly confusing or a spectacular failure, but what's imporant is that either way, it will be spectacular. ;) Thanks for your feedback and encouragment so far!_

_To recap, the last chapter saw Harriet Jones (a later version) meeting Rose and stowing on board her zepplin on top of Torchwood Tower. Then Harriet Jones (the current one) and the Doctor on board the alien ship managed to break out of their "guest room". We continue back on earth..._

**T Minus 88 Days, 2 Hours, 25 Minutes (and 48 seconds, and counting)**

Rose paced the floor, glancing every so often at the screens around her. The Hive was usually the busiest floor in Torchwood, being the centre of communications (and surveillance), but this late hour meant it had only half its usual staff, and Rose had nearly exploded in impatience when Liam, their best languages expert (after the Doctor) had taken almost a half hour to show up. She tried not to hover too closely behind his chair, as he listened, on headphones, to the recordings the Doctor had left on Harriet Jones' device. His fingers flew over computer keys to make tweaks to Torchwood's translation program. On another monitor was a split-screen view of two rather imposing aliens conversing with clicks, buzzes and warbles. One of them was the Viceroy. With the Doctor's notes, Torchwood had managed to crack into the aliens' comunications channel and were watching the Vieroy conversing with (whom Rose assumed was) his liege.

"We can intercept their channel whenever you're ready, Miss Tyler." Chris, one of agents, spoke up.

"Yeah," said Rose, not pausing in her pacing. "Only do that when their conversation is ended. We want to keep the Viceroy distracted, for as long as possible."

"Are you going to speak to them?"

Rose blanched at the thought, but knew there might be no other option. "If I have to."

"Is the Doctor alright?"

Rose knew why the question was asked. The two were rarely apart, and never during a crisis. And there was no one in Torchwood not acquainted with the Doctor, who had managed (and Rose could hardly blame him) to become the man who had all the answers. It almost dented Rose's confidence sometimes, until she remembered that her father and herself had managed to run Torchwood smoothly even before he had arrived.

"He's... fine. He's on the alien ship with, er, someone else. There's... something the Doctor needs to do on the ship, and he needs the aliens distracted while he's at it."

There was silence in the Hive for a moment, before Chris' incredulous voice broke it.

"We have to distract an _entire_ alien _warship?_"

"Yup" said Rose, saying it with what she hoped was the confidence and style the Doctor would have used.

"I'd like a raise," said Chris, to some scattered laughter. The tension in the room loosened a bit, but only for a while. An insistent beeping, indicating an urgent call, waited to be answered.

"Miss Tyler, the Prime Minister's on the line."

Rose's heart sank as she looked at the agent who had taken the call. "Tell him this is a bad time, Mary."

"Alright. Ah..." said Mary, as another beeping and another flashing light meant another call had just come in. And then yet another. Rose turned back to Liam and his translation efforts, trusting Mary to handle the calls. She fought down a rising panic that she didn't know what to _do._ Running to and from aliens was one thing (and exhilarating), but being trapped in a Torchwood room, even if it was the Hive, was quite another. She didn't envy her father this part of the job.

"A bit of progress," said Liam modestly to Rose, as they watched the Viceroy's still ongoing conversation with his homeworld. Liam turned up the volume on the feed, now processed by the Torchwood program, and every now and then a recognisable word in English jumped out at Rose. Her mind grasped desperately at every piece, trying to understand the Viceroy's speech. He seemed animated, but Rose couldn't be sure.

"...[wxxztck] world crawling weapons [krjvt rrft jkkgt] ...before full [jkrrzt] ... to [krrdt] distance...[krrrrgt] dangerous [fvvrt] on ship... watch [trrrzxt] fail..."

"Aurgh," said Rose softly, unable to make sense of it.

"Rose? Miss Tyler? Miss Tyler. I'm so sorry..." It was Mary, with a look of resignation on her face.

"Yeah?"

"I've got three calls on hold, because all of them said they'll keep calling back until you talk to them. There's the PM on Line 1, UNIT on Line 2, and the Americans on Line 3. Miss Tyler."

"The Americans?" said Rose. A slight hush fell over the Hive.

Mary cast an uncertain glance around the room. "Their President's office. They said they know about our first contact and they demanded, well, you."

"Tell them we're still busy in the midst of it."

"They said they know who we've got on the alien ship."

"Well, the Doctor's up there," said Rose, fighting irritation at this unexpected turn.

"They said they know _who else._"

"_Bloo—fr..." _Rose cussed under her breath. "Did they sound...threatening?"

"Kind of, Miss Tyler."

Rose felt her blood pressure rise. But anger and adrenaline, in combination, now worked to narrow her focus on what was important. A cool calm flooded into Rose. She straightened her back and took a deep breath.

"Alright, all of you," she said, her voice ringing clear across the Hive. "Here are the stakes. I didn't tell you everything before, because I either thought it would be too much pressure, or would make some of you—" She rolled her eyes drolly at Chris "—ask for raises. Well, duly noted. The Doctor's up on the alien ship. The other person with him... is President Harriet Jones."

She didn't have to tell them their President was, or would be, fine, and safely stowed away on her own zeppelin, but only if Rose got this right.

Her words, as she expected, brought silence to the room, but most of the staff had enough professionalism to do nothing more than widen their eyes in disbelief.

"We will take care of our own. You can imagine that destroying, or trying to destroy, the alien ship is not going to be an option, not until our Doctor and President are off it. Nor will we allow anyone else to do that." Rose's lips hardened into a thin line. Her mind was still working through ideas, spinning through various options, trying to find one preposterous enough to work. A mad one was starting to take shape.

"Chris, start interrupting the alien's communication. We won't engage them yet; just intercept the channel, fill it with intermittent static, rinse and repeat. Let them think it's solar interference. Got that?"

"Got it, Miss Tyler," said Chris, the brightest grin on his face.

"Mary, transfer all the calls for me to my father's office," said Rose. Pete Tyler's office looked out over the Hive on a mezzanine level. "Make it a video conference. Tell 'em that I'll get to them. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Yes, Miss Tyler."

Rose was already dashing for the lift.

* * *

"Good morning, or evening to all of you," greeted Rose brightly as she settled into her father's comfy leather chair. "I'm Rose Tyler of Torchwood. Thank you for your patience. I called this meeting to assure all of you that Torchwood has the situation with the aliens under control."

She was rewarded with three faces on her screens regarding her with confusion and skepticism. Meanwhile, Rose beamed beatifically.

"_Miss Tyler_," the assistant to the American President was the first to speak in admonishing tones. "If you could get _your father_ to give us a proper update..."

"Oh, he's not here," said Rose airily, examining her fingernails. She really did need a manicure. "I'm deputy _boss_, you know, and he left me in charge."

"_Young lady..." _continued the assistant, but he was interrupted his President taking his place, and the Prime Minister to Britain speaking up. "What is Torchwood doing about the, um, _important British subject_ on the alien ship?"

"The Doctor is on the alien ship voluntarily, and having fun. Making friends, you know. Which reminds me," Rose flicked her gaze to the UNIT representative, then to the American President, President Richard Kindall, a man she'd always thought took too much upon himself (she'd much preferred his predecessor), "We'd appreciate none of you blowing up the alien ship. A diplomatic exchange is currently going on up there, and Britain will regard any attack on the alien ship as an act of war on Britain."

Wisely, the PM said nothing to contradict her claim.

"Miss Tyler, the aliens threaten the _whole earth. _If we need to declare war on Britain in order to defend the planet, _we will do so," _said President Kindall.

"They do not threaten," said Rose Tyler, rolling her eyes, she hoped, with impudence.

"I'm sorry?"

"The aliens _do not threaten. _They're here to, how do you put it? _Make nice." _She played lazily with the stationery on her father's desk.

"You _cannot possibly _expect us to believe that, Miss Tyler," said the US President.

"Why not?"

"We have our own sources of information..."

Rose's eyes widened. "Oh, if you have information that is important for us to know about the aliens, please do share," she pleaded.

"We had heard a rumour that a number of hostages were taken from your President's Christmas Ball..."

"Really?" Rose admired at an imaginary watch on her empty wrist. "Please check with your sources again. Last I checked, all of those _hostages_ were returned. Myself included. Anything else?"

"_They have your President!"_

Rose suppressed a smile, having looked forward to this. Instead, she gave an exasperated look. "You mean they _had."_

"What do you mean?" The question was echoed across all the call-screens.

"I told you," said Rose. "The aliens _do not threaten. _We have it under control. President Harriet Jones _was_ on the alien ship. She was part of first contact, they gave her a tour, everyone behaved, and then she came back. The Doctor stayed. He _is_ our alien ambassador." She looked at them full-on. "Mr President," she said, giving President Kindall a _special_ look. "I _must_ thank you for your concern after Britain's and Torchwood's affairs." She tried not to let sarcasm seep in too much.

The faces on her screens looked grim. "Miss Tyler, forgive me if I have trouble believing you," said President Kindall.

Rose sighed, and looked off-camera to her right, then back. "Fine," she said. "You don't want to believe me that Torchwood is handling this, and I didn't want to show you for fools. But since you've forced me to..." She beckoned to her right, then rose out of father's chair, politely offering it.

President Harriet Jones, wrapped in a pink fluffy bathrobe, stepped into view of the video conference call and settled down into the seat.

"Hello everyone," said Harriet Jones casually. "I hope you'll all forgive me my state of dress."

The looks of shock on the screens nearly made Rose laugh out loud. She retreated to the window to watch Harriet Jones pacify the callers, marvelling at how commanding she looked even in a borrowed pink bathrobe. It only took Harriet Jones a few minutes to end the conference, after which she approached Rose, looking tired but happy.

"Thank you," Rose said with feeling. She was especially elated when the President gave her a hug.

"Thank _you. _That was marvellous."

"I'll never make a diplomat," said Rose, ruefully. "Was I too rude?"

"You were just enough rude. The Americans took your bait."

Rose grinned. "They did?"

"They're convinced everything's safe and the aliens are eating out of our hands. President Kindall's still on the line for you. Waiting for his turn at greeting the new aliens, even if he's got to settle for a video call through Torchwood first. He'll probably ask for his own tour now, you know. He seemed a bit insulted Britain was greeted first, but," she shrugged, "I told him we couldn't help it."

Rose breathed a sigh of happy relief.

Harriet Jones smiled at her. "The Viceroy _will _be occupied with the Americans for a while. For two hours, to be exact. It's _just about_ the time we needed."

Rose frowned at the way she said it. "Two hours? Just about?" she repeated.

"Oh dear, have I said too much? I _am_ new to this time-travel thing. Could I have my note-taker back, please?" Harriet Jones asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Rose, returning the small device, having already downloaded the relevant files to Torchwood's computers. Then she excused herself, stepping out of the office and to mezzanine balcony over the Hive.

"Mary, Chris," she called, waiting for the two of them to look up and acknowledge her.

"Yes, Miss Tyler?"

"American President still on Line 3. Chris, cease the solar interruption, and hail the alien ship with the codes given you. When you get a channel, _and you will,_ just connect it to Line 3, yeah?"

"Yes, Miss Tyler."

She grinned down at them. "Distraction accomplished. Thank you, guys." The smile finally slipped from her face, but only momentarily, when she stepped back into her father's office and saw that Harriet Jones was gone. A hand pulled her away from the door, then shut it firmly behind her.

The Doctor wrapped Rose in a crushing hug.


	7. Chapter 7

**T Minus 88 Days, 2 Hours, 8 Minutes (and 06 seconds, and counting)**

Rose grinned and couldn't stop grinning as the Doctor's arms and scent enveloped her. The face against hers felt cold and scratchy though, and his clothing was freezing, and she couldn't help pulling back to take a look at him, without his long coat, but still in his tux (though the bowtie was undone), and with a faint but definite start of a beard on his face.

"How long has it been? For you?" she blurted, frowning.

"Too long," he replied. "Why? How bad do I look?"

"You're a sight for sore eyes. And freezing. Why?"

"An effect of the travel. And 'cause your bathrobe didn't fit me. I think Harriet Jones left you something in the pocket, though." He had it hanging in the crook of his arm, and she took it from him, frowning. The robe felt ice-cold. Laying it one side and examining him, she saw something quite complicated-looking strapped across his back. It was the size of two oxygen tanks and looked about as heavy.

"I know, not the prettiest nor most compact thing ever," the Doctor said apologetically. "It's pretty rudimentary. Nothing like what Jack had."

"Does the job, though?"

"Let's hope so."

She looked into his eyes, which were more tired than she cared to see. "It's not over yet?"

The Doctor shook his head but tried to smile. "Alien ship's still in the sky. Complete Destruction from the space-time breaches still threatens. No, Rose, I'm not done yet."

"Harriet Jones said I bought you two hours for getting off the alien ship. Or around there."

"Then it will be over for _you_ in two hours or around there."

"What else can I do to help?" She captured his hands in hers. They were so cold. She brought them to her lips and tried to warm them with her breath, panting softly on them. She carressed his skin with her fingers.

"I—" He never quite finished what he meant to say, distracted as he was watching Rose with an unreadable expression. She fought a smile and sudden inspiration. She didn't want to say it, but he _was_ always _inspiring_ in his tux.

"Go on," she said.

"I'm now trying to create a very, very, very, _very _complicated space-time event."

"Ah, to solve the problem with the space-time cracks," she said, kissing his knuckle.

"Clever Rose." His voice sounded a little breathless, or maybe it was just her imagination.

"So how do we do that?" she asked, though the answer was rather inconsequential to her at the moment, as she kissed another knuckle, this time with a bit of tongue.

"I've calibrated this Vortex Manipulator now. I thought... I'd just keep popping back and forth in time..." The Doctor's voice trailed off as Rose brought one of his hands to her chest and _oh so slightly _over her left breast. She continued kissing the other, then seemed to notice the Doctor had stopped.

"_Back and forth in time_..._?" _she prompted helpfully.

"Yes, back and forth in time, then use this device to close one of the gaps, though I'm not sure how yet..."

"Just one?"

A quick flash of regret crossed the Doctor's face. "All I could get from the alien's ship. Although if I were to go back in time and give them a reason to carry a spare—aha!—it breaks time-travel rules but..." He trailed off again as the idea took form.

"Clever Doctor." Rose pressed herself _just a little bit _closer to the Doctor, and felt the hand on her breast curve gently around her flesh.

"It's going to get complicated, Rose. But that's it! That's the key. Not just going back and forth in time, but I need change things as much as I dare without breaking this universe..."

"What about all those lectures you gave me in the old days about not tampering with something that's already happened?" Rose tried to put some rebuke in her voice, but failed miserably, as she was subtly grinding her body against the Doctor's.

"We need a very, very, very, _very _complicated time-space event. Extenuating circumstances, Rose. Besides, you sort of gave me the idea..."

"Did I? Alright then. Do it. You're the Doctor. You're brilliant." Rose, bolder now, was practically planting open-mouthed kisses on the back of his hand that was at her lips, and the Doctor still hadn't said a word about it. And she _knew _the nipple that was under his other hand was standing at attention.

"Am I?" asked the Doctor. "Because it's really hard to think when you're trying to seduce me."

Rose fought a grin. "I thought you'd never notice," she said in relief and exasperation.

"Rose, I'll _always _notice, I promise that." He leaned in and claimed her lips in his, cold lips against warm, giving her a kiss that made her shiver up to the roots of her hair. Then maddeningly, he broke the kiss and was back to thinking aloud, though he did so with his lips against her ear. "I'm going to have to break so many rules..."

"Are you? How... naughty," said Rose. She wormed a determined hand up his neck (still cool, but getting warmer) and into his hair, gripping it so she could kiss him again.

"I'm not the one—" The Doctor kissed her lips "—who's seducing—" He kissed her chin "—me in her father's office—" He kissed her neck "—in the middle of—" He nipped her gently with his teeth "—a _crisis."_

"_You were cold,"_ said Rose.

"Is that the story you're sticking to?" His voice was thick with amusement.

"Speaking of _sticking..." _Rose said pointedly.

The Doctor growled low in his throat, sending a thrill up Rose's spine. "Alright, Rose. _Hold on._ We can't stay here..." He released her for a moment to pry a small keypad from the device on his back, quickly tapping on keys too quickly for Rose's eyes to follow. Then, he wrapped one arm firmly around her waist, and, with a meaningful glance at her, hit one last key. Rose felt his other arm cradle her as the world went blue, and _cold. _A roar filled her ears, her body felt stretched, then compressed. And just before it got too painful, the roar died down, and her body was hers again, but shivering as if she'd been blasted with arctic air.

Rose groaned, keeping her eyes shut. She felt the ground under her feet, but they were wobbly. Thankfully, she felt the Doctor lay her gently down on a soft and familiar surface. She opened her eyes a little to see them alone and back in their zeppelin. "That was a bit rough," she managed as she looked up at the Doctor from their bed.

"Sorry," said the Doctor, sitting next to her. "It takes some getting used to."

"It does explain a lot..." Rose reached for him, noting how her fingers shook with cold, but undaunted as it only made her want him more. The Doctor flashed her a quick smile, hands busy as he unstrapped his cobbled-together Vortex Manipulator from his back, then slipped out of his long coat, jacket and belt. He caught Rose's hand in his, and this time was the one who breathed warm air onto her fingers. Rose ached with need and pulled him down to her so they lay side by side. She wormed close, undoing his remaining clothing and slipping her hand down his trousers, gratified by his erection straining toward her.

"Oh, Rose," he groaned into her hair she started stroking him through the fabric of his briefs. His cool hands had found her skin, and were caressing her back, warming quickly enough as they remained for a moment like this.

"How long do we have?" Rose asked softly, panting with desire.

"With the Vortex Thingie around? As much as we need." One of his exploring hands found her breast under the fabric of her bra, and tenderly squeezed an erect nipple.

"Good," gasped Rose. Yet her hands could not move quickly enough as she turned to ridding herself of her pants and knickers. Then she quickly stripped the Doctor of his trousers and underwear, suppressing groans as he ran his hands over her warm thighs and ever closer, but not touching, the heat between her legs...

The Doctor chuckled softly as if he sensed her impatience. Slowly, too slowly for her, he rolled her onto her back and took his position above her, kissing her lips, her cheek, her neck. Then gasped as she dug her fingernails into his back and wrapped her legs around him. The tip of his erection pushed at her entrance, and the Doctor groaned at the feel of her—wet, hot and full of want. He groaned again as he sank slowly into the core of her, felt her shudder beneath him and _around_ him, her muscles gripping his length. Rose's back arched under his body at the feel of him_._ Her hips moved almost on their own, urging the Doctor on. She watched his face as he gave in to her, his eyes closed, picking up a slow and steady rhythm as he rocked his hips, panting softly with every stroke. She kissed him, a breathless, tender kiss that made him open his eyes and look at her.

"My fantastic Rose," he whispered. He barely paused in his movements as his right hand found her left, and intertwined her fingers with hers. Their rings touching, she suddenly saw into his mind, felt herself and him as pleasure sang through both their bodies. A pleasant confusion took her as she couldn't distinguish between her body and his, only felt their climaxes slowly building, heard the sounds of their breaths ringing through the silence of their ship. She felt herself glowing with warmth, desire and a small shock, as she felt the Doctor's mind reach out toward another Doctor and another Rose, present elsewhere but in the same moment of time, as she caught the Doctor's thought: _"Very very very _very _complicated, and a teeny bit naughty..." _and understood the Doctor was allowing _them_ to look in on this moment, and she would feel this moment again later, telepathically, through the rings. She almost thought she could feel yet another presence, possibly yet another Doctor, and another Rose, but it was confusing, and too many... Before she could analyse it all, the Doctor withdrew from them again. She blinked, and became aware of the Doctor getting close, but holding himself back from the brink. He was slowing down.

"Don't stop," Rose begged, but the Doctor only shook his head. "Shhh," he said, as he pulled out of her (Rose moaned in protest) but only to plant kisses down her body and then between her legs. Rose arched her back again, mewing helplessly as his tongue snaked out over her swollen clit, then over and over as he stroked it with an expert tongue, sucking ever so softly and sending her into incoherent pleasure. When he added the ministration of his fingers, slipping them through her hot, silken folds and into her and stroking her _just there, _she bucked under him, wanting to come and _so close, _she could feel it starting to break over her.

"Doctor, so close...please, Doctor... _inside me, now..." _She hardly recognised the words or the voice coming from her own mouth, only her own desperation to come with him inside her, as he gave her clit another lascivious, delicious stroke of his tongue that tipped her over the brink... and she crashed on the other side as her body thrashed with climax, and shook again as he swiftly mounted her, giving her no respite as he sent her even higher, pounding into her deeper and faster than before. He worked in an almost-grim silence, allowed Rose to recover slightly from her last climax before her pleasure built again, this time swifter from the sensitivity of her flesh. She started moving with him again, bearing her hips down on him that increased the friction _there,_ and was rewarded as the Doctor gave a moan and thrust harder. "_God, Rose... Rose..." _He shuddered as he buried himself into her to the hilt, shook as he felt her body tighten around him and they both came with an intensity that seemed to shake the world around them. It seemed to be eons until their bodies relaxed again, a tangle of tingling flesh, arms and legs, and Rose's hair.

"Hmmm," the Doctor was the first to speak, though Rose thought he sounded a little dazed. "Something happened there," he panted.

"Something did," Rose agreed, kissing him with a smile.

The Doctor smiled and kissed her back, though he turned serious again quickly. "Not that. Something timey-wimey." He frowned, then reluctantly rolled off Rose and looked at her in thought.

"Something wrong?" Rose asked in concern.

"I don't know yet," said the Doctor, lying beside her. He reached out a hand to brush her hair from her face. "Oh, Rose, in a thousand years, or in a _million_, let me never forget _that." _The tiniest smile on his face as he drank in the sight of her left no doubt as to what he referred to.

But his voice sounded far away, and Rose thought it strange that he spoke like he was still fully time lord, and not human.

"There is another Rose and another Doctor about right now," Rose said. "Was that timey-wimey you felt?"

"Not really," the Doctor said. He had wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger, and was regarding it thoughtfully, as if he'd never seen it before. Rose's skin prickled.

"Doctor." Rose had to see his eyes. It was suddenly urgent that she had to. Some instinct inside her demanded it.

"Mmm?" Of course, now when she wanted to look at him, he was lazily tasting the skin of her throat.

"Doctor. Let me see you," she breathed. The Doctor's body went rigid as he resisted her, then he seemed to give in. He moved stiffly as he raised his head and met her eyes. Rose froze as she hid her alarm and confusion.

It was the Doctor, but more than the Doctor she usually knew. It was undoubtedly still him, yet there was an odd feeling she couldn't shake, as he looked back at her as if he was trying to hide his amusement—no, it wasn't amusement... it was fear. There was something he was hiding.

She frowned in puzzlement. He started to turn away, but her fingers under his chin brought his gaze back to hers. He was right. Something was timey-wimey. She didn't know what to say, only wanted to reassure him; everything would turn out alright, it always did.

"I love you, you know," she said.

An unreadable expression crossed his face too quickly for Rose to identify. "Do you still?" he asked, before he cut himself off and closed his eyes. It was as if he willed himself to relax, and when he opened his eyes again, he was himself again.

Rose calmed down, and smiled into his familiar gaze.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **_I can't believe it's been four months since my last update. I'm so, so sorry. There just wasn't time to write, and no one hated that situation more than I! If you're still here, THANK YOU for sticking with me. If you want to go back to the previous chapter to refresh your memory, remember it was a HAWT one (well, _I_ think so), so that should be fun rereading anyway. Still, I'm going to help make up for the lag by giving a super-summary of everything thus far. _

_Two of Amy's space-time cracks appear in Pete's World, one in downtown London. Rose and the Doctor know what's needed to close them, but they don't have the means to do it. An alien ship comes, with these aliens concerned about the cracks, and they hold President Harriet Jones hostage. The Doctor (deliberately) joins her as hostage on the ship. Rose, on earth, has to somehow keep alien Viceroy distracted while the Doctor plunders the alien ship for parts to make a Vortex Manipulator. Rose does this by deceiving the Americans into distracting the aliens for her—and she does this with the help of Future!Harriet, who has already escaped the alien ship. (This escape, actually, has yet to happen in real time.) Then Future!Doctor joins her and there's a little celebratory interlude (the HAWT chapter), during/before which he, with the Vortex Manipulator, explains he's using it to travel back and forth and create a very very very very complicated space-time event to close the space-time cracks (the solution used by the 11th Doctor in Flesh and Stone)._

_The next scene returns us to the alien ship where the current!Doctor and current!Harriet Jones have yet to escape. In this same chapter, we'll also follow (current!)Rose on Earth, at the Torchwood Tower, as she deals with Future!Doctors._

_Who loves ya, Babeez?_

**T Minus 88 Days, 1 Hours, 43 Minutes (and 49 seconds, and counting)**

"That bloody, insufferable..._bastard!"_

Harriet Jones frowned in puzzlement as she heard the Doctor curse at some provocation she couldn't see. They were in a hallway just outside the aliens' engine room (according to the Doctor), and the Doctor was kneeling and currently halfway into a ventilation duct just off the hallway. His hind quarters and legs, stuck outside of the small-ish opening in the wall, shuddered, and if she hadn't thought it was impossible, it looked like he was, as kids said these days, _getting it off._

"Doctor?" Harriet Jones spoke in a whisper from behind him. She didn't want to give away their presence on the alien ship, but if the Doctor was going to be shuddering, cursing and having his noisy actions reverbrating through the aliens' ventilation system (right outside the engine room), she figured a quiet inquiry from her couldn't be unforgiveable.

He didn't answer, but he did seem to calm a bit even as he seemed to be panting from great exertion. Finally, he seemed to be getting on what he was going to do anyways. She heard a tiny _pop_ as he opened a small bottle of essential oil that she'd given him. After a short while he started crawling backwards out of the duct. He smelled faintly of peppermint oil.

"You were cursing someone, Doctor? What happened in there?" she couldn't help asking him as he emerged, stood up, and dusted imaginary dust off his tuxedo and coat.

He muttered under his breath, and when he did raise his voice for her to hear, all she caught was something about a psychic message from someone he knew. Then he offered her back her small vial of peppermint essential oil, which she slipped back into a hidden compartment, under a highly decorative embroidered piece on the bodice of her gown.

"Who's your tailor?" The Doctor asked, watching her.

"I beg your pardon, Doctor?" asked President Harriet Jones.

"Very handy, those hidden pockets of yours," he said, replacing the grate in the wall that led to the alien warship's ventilation system.

"Yes, well... evening purses just don't do it for me," said Harriet Jones. "Not when I have to shake hands and sign papers on the move as often as I do."

"Even at your posh parties, Madam President?"

"Especially those, Doctor. So now what?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "Now we wait for the engine room to be vacated for us. Let's give them some space—" He flattened himself against the wall, and Harriet Jones followed his example, just as the door next to them slid open. Frantic clicking and wheezing noises preceded the emergence of one of the insect-like aliens, stumbling clumsily on three limbs while its other appendages rubbed helplessly at its face. It definitely seemed to be in distress. It was followed by four others, all in equal discomfort. One narrowly missed tumbling into the Doctor as they, as one, moved drunkenly down the hallway away from them, not even registering the presence of the humans.

"That wouldn't have worked so well with any other oil," said the Doctor, marveling. "Peppermint works a number on most insectoid respiratory systems..."

"Well, it's good for human headaches, applied to the temples," said Harriet Jones. "And works too for a breath freshener..."

"Ah. Minty fresh," the Doctor said lightly as he poked his head into the doorway to the engine room. "Well here we are then. Heart of the ship!"

They entered a large high-ceilinged room that seemed to thrum with energy. Towering sleek and shiny machinery surrounded them. The air was filled with the not-unpleasant smell of peppermint.

"What a beauty," the Doctor breathed, as he stood and admired the shiniest and largest object in the engine room.

"Is that the engine?" asked Harriet Jones.

"No," said the Doctor, waving his sonic screwdriver at it. "It's just the very impressive fuel indicator... _thingabob. _Technical term."

"Ah." The President surveyed the room, staying quiet as she let the Doctor explore. After some moments, she was busy blinking away tears as the smell of peppermint got a little _too_ insistent.

"It should clear up soon," said the Doctor, noticing her discomfort. "They'll be activating the air-purifying system from another control room, so we don't have too much time—"

From Harriet Jones' point of view, this was when things with the alien got _unbearably_ confusing.

"Consider your time extended," said the Doctor. Except this was another Doctor, as the President's senses registered that his voice was suddenly muffled and coming from a different direction.

Harriet Jones stared dumbly for a moment, wondering if the peppermint had gotten to her head as she realized she was looking at, not one, but _two_ Doctors.

The second Doctor was standing at a console just beside the door they had entered. He wasn't even looking at them as his fingers danced madly over the keyboard, bringing multiple screens to life. A multi-coloured woolen scarf was wound around his neck and lower half of his face, but he was unmistakeable nonetheless, with his dark-rimmed spectacles on and his wild, dark hair standing at attention. A complicated and heavy contraption was strapped to his back.

"HA!" crowed the first Doctor in delight as he pointed to the new arrival, _himself._

"Oi, there's work to be done," said the second, scarfed Doctor. "Come here, Madam President. You too, Me."

Harriet Jones stood frozen, and was aware of herself gaping like a landed fish. "Doctor, is it the_ magic ring _doing this?" She was further discomfitted by the two Doctors giving an identical small laugh at the same time.

"More like time travel, Madam President." They spoke the same words simultaneously. Harriet Jones touched her brow. There was not enough peppermint oil in the world to help _this_ headache.

"This screen shows you the alien ship's outward communication channels—" the new Doctor was now saying to the first, "All static at the moment. Nevermind. This screen, the ship's ventilation system. I've blocked their commands and redirected the air to send that peppermint stuff to all areas within one hundred metres from the engine room. Reuse and recycle as necessary. This screen, self-explanatory; all the onboard security commands and alarms. President Jones, I need your note-taker, and your eye on _this_ screen. Let the Other Me know if you start seeing anything in red. This one—"

"Excuse me, but I still don't understand what's going on here..."

Both Doctors turned to Harriet Jones.

"It's me, President Harriet Jones, from the future..."

"It's me, President Harriet Jones, _in_ the future, relative to you..."

They were both still speaking at the same time. The Doctor was just tolerable by himself; having two of him was more than one too many.

"Just _one_ of you answer me at any time!" snapped Harriet Jones.

The first Doctor opened his mouth, but the second one beat him to the punch. "Look, I'm him. Or I was him, it's still me, it's just me from the future time-traveled back to my own past. That's the best I can do to explain it, Madam President." The newly arrived Doctor had drawn down the scarf from his face, and Harriet could see him clearly now, the same him, more tired but looking as irrepressible and as cocky as ever.

"That's impossible," said Harriet Jones.

The two of them grinned. "Human beings are always entirely too quick to use that word," said the second Doctor.

"Bugger," said Harriet in resigned wonder. "Is this what you used to do all the time? Not just time-travel but to go back to yourself in the past?"

"Oh no," they both said in unison, before a shared look between them seemed to bring an agreement that her current Doctor would speak now: "Not all the time. Very rarely. Tricky stuff, crossing your own timeline. Not to be done at all, really—"

"Except in extenuating circumstances," said Future Doctor with a look.

"Is that Jackie Tyler's Christmas scarf?" The Current Doctor asked Future Doctor.

Future Doctor waved off the question. "Of all the questions. Really? With a Vortex Manipulator strapped to my back? It was made in less than two hours, Me. You should be taking notes. In fact, don't bother. We're going to build this thing. Now." He turned back to Harriet Jones and gave a respectful nod. "Madam President, speaking of notes, may I borrow your note-taker? It's that little device you've got in your pockets for making and storing voice recordings."

Stunned, Harriet Jones realised her hand had somehow already reached for the device in question and was putting it in the Doctor's hands.

"Thank you," he said. "And the other thing: Please watch _this screen. _Watch for anything that appears in red. The Viceroy should stay distracted. Myself and I, we have a time machine to build."

* * *

Rose yawned and stretched languidly next to a dozing Doctor. She was tired enough to need sleep too, but also knew she likely had too much nervous energy to do so. Rising reluctantly from their bed, she padded quickly to their tiny bathroom for a quick hot shower. When she emerged five minutes later in a cloud of lavender-scented steam, the Doctor was still asleep. She dressed, being sure to put on warmer clothing than before, then drew out a long, ugly scarf from her wardrobe. She regarded it thoughtfully before placing it neatly on top of the Doctor's coat, which Harriet Jones had returned to her not long ago. She had just drawn a light blanket over the Doctor's sleeping form when the airship's main console began chirping.

"What," she said under her breath as she rushed to answer before the sound woke the Doctor. A flashing LED told her there was a call from her father waiting; odd enough that he had chosen to call her on her ship instead of on her phone. She answered in a loud whisper.

"Hello?"

"Rose, why is your pink bathrobe in my office?" asked Pete Tyler, gazing in bafflement at her from the console screen. He was sitting at his office desk, still in his Christmas Ball finery.

"What? Oh. Harriet Jones borrowed it. Did you just get back?" asked Rose.

"Harriet...? Oh. And I thought the Doctor was pulling my leg." Pete glared at a spot outside the view of the screen for a moment.

"What?" she seemed to be saying that a lot. "Is he there?"

"He's the one who told me to get you on your ship's phone."

Rose gazed back toward the bedroom, which was just as she'd left it. "One moment," she said, before actually walking just to check—and the Doctor was still asleep on the bed as she'd left him. She rolled her eyes when she returned to the ship's console. "Timey-wimey," she muttered.

This time, the Doctor was behind her father on the video call screen. He wiggled his fingers at her in a small wave, but his face seemed strangely serious. The ugly, multi-coloured scarf hung loosely around his neck.

"He's explained things to me a bit," said Pete. "I can't say I can follow it all, but would you mind coming back down here?"

Rose looked at the Doctor through the screen, who nodded at her. "Two minutes," she said. She grabbed her coat and phone, and for the third time that night, headed out off the airship, no longer bothering to secure the cabin door behind her. Down the stairs from the Torchwood Tower roof-top, to the floor with her father's office, on the mezzanine above the Hive. For the second time that night, as she entered the room, she was wrapped in the Doctor's hug. Though she immediately noticed this one was more desperate.

"What's wrong?" she blurted.

The set of his jaw conveyed disappointment and frustration. The Doctor seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking: "I think I can close only one of the space-time breaches tonight."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Rose, it's just one out of two." The Doctor released her from his embrace, then started to pace the room.

"It's better than none," said Rose. She glanced quickly at her father, who could only give her a blank shrug. "How long has it been since you last saw me?"

"A long time, Rose."

"Tell me."

"Long enough to go back to the ship up there; I helped the other me up there a bit, then I downloaded the ship's travel log and went back to its past—"

Her heart seemed to flutter up to choke her. She willed herself to stay calm, banishing the thought of her Doctor, alone, wandering an alien ship not only in the past but possibly light years away from her, and how easily she could have lost him. "You could have taken me."

"No," said the Doctor and her father at the same time.

Rose shook her head. "I'm not going to argue this with the two of you. I'm a grown woman, and you both need to realise this by now. Go on."

"One engine on that alien ship gives us one Vortex Manipulator. We have _two_ breaches to fix. I thought, since the need was urgent, if I could make the ship bring _two_ engines..."

"Yeah, I remember that idea," said Rose. "You couldn't do it?"

"I did, it just didn't make a difference. And I _should_ _have known._" The Doctor spit the last words out, and now Rose began to understand the anger at himself. He paused at the window, and glowered at the view, or maybe at the reflection of himself. "The ship we have up there came with only one engine not because I hadn't gone back to make it carry two, it was _in spite of it. _One of them failed on the way here, so they chucked it and used the spare. Rose, it was so _basic."_

Rose cocked her head, not fully understanding but trusting completely. "Well, you tried it because you had to," she said. "Extenuating circumstances." A thought occured to her. "What happens an hour from now? You took—I mean, will take, took, have taken, whatever—their one engine to make the Vortex Manipulator. So how's the ship going to go away? When you and Harriet get off the ship, what happens to it? Is it just dead in the water?"

"I can't..." The Doctor trailed off, struggled with himself, then started again, "I can't..."

"Can't remember? Can't tell us? Can't say because...?" Rose prompted.

"Can't say because I'm drawing a blank!" He pulled at his own hair. "You're right though, Rose... I'm here, and I've been on automatic, just running around in a paradox while I can remember everything else in the past. But the question is: why is the recollection of _that_ moment not coming to me? You always hit it on the head, Rose."

She should have felt proud or something, but all she could do was watch as his look of frustration deepened.

"Could the memory just be... just be hidden from you because it needs to be hidden for now? You know, for things to work out?" Rose asked.

"It's possible. Search me, Rose." To her surprise, the Doctor returned from the window to stand before her, and grabbed her hands to place them on his face. With that contact the mental link between them established fully, Rose saw in her mind's eye the Doctor's memories open to her. She gasped, reeling with the suddenness of it all, and grasped at the first thing she noticed.

"You have a memory missing!"

"I do?"

He was about to withdraw, but Rose kept her hold on him, closing her eyes to concentrate. She could only see it if she stood back and tried to see his recent memories as a larger picture, and in the heart of it was... gray. And, she couldn't be sure, but even more terrifying was that the grayness seemed to be... growing. She let the Doctor see it through her mind's eye. "What's this mean?"

The Doctor's face, beneath her hands, moved, and Rose opened her eyes to see his grim frown. "I can think of two—no, three possibilities. All of them not good. Come on, Rose. We need to figure this out _fast._"

He was already typing on the keyboard of the Vortex Manipulator. Coordinates entered, the Doctor unwound part of the woolen scarf around his neck, then pulled Rose close and wound it around her. Rose couldn't help smiling at the gesture as she hugged him. "Where are we going?" she asked, as she watched the Doctor nod a quick goodbye to Pete Tyler, who was looking completely out of his depth, still holding Rose's pink bathrobe in his hand.

"We're going to put _me_ in the Dimension Cannon."


	9. Chapter 9

**T Minus 88 Days, 1 Hours, 18 Minutes (and 7 seconds, and counting)**

As soon as they materialised at the Downtown Site of Impending Complete Destruction, Rose felt a quick kiss on her lips. Then the Doctor was untangling himself from her, and rushing for the door of the container office. Pushing it open forcefully, he must have startled the people inside because apologies began spilling from his mouth even as he continued toward the Dimension Cannon. Rose followed more slowly, acknowledging Torchwood agents Lynn and Dave as they gave her quizzical looks.

"We have an emergency," she said to them in explanation as the Doctor divested himself of the Vortex Manipulator and plunged his hands into the Dimension Cannon's guts, disconnecting and reconnecting wires faster than their eyes could follow.

"Anything we can do?" asked Lynn as the two agents rose from their positions in front of the monitors and approached cautiously.

"Keeping out of his way may be a good start. And I'll still need one of you to keep an eye on the anomaly. Has anything happened here in the last, oh, two hours?" Rose wasn't looking at them as she asked the question, but she did when the silence that followed piqued her curiousity. Dave looked uncomfortable and Lynn was trying to hide a what looked like a painful blush.

"Anything that happened with the_ anomaly,_ not between two _adults?"_ Rose amended.

"Not really, Boss," said Dave, clearing his throat. "What's the Doc doing?"

"Returning the Cannon to its factory settings," answered the Doctor. "You once used this to measure timelines," he said, over the _whirr_ of his sonic screwdriver. "Now you've got to measure mine."

"But you've been working on that for _weeks_ to get it to fix the anomaly!"

"_Emergency,"_ stressed Rose. Helpfully, she positioned herself behind the panel on the cannon where objects were placed to be measured. From a time that felt like it was an eternity ago, she recalled placing some strands of hair from Donna Noble in it, and how they had come damn near to breaking the machine—it hadn't been built to measure a singularity of Donna's importance, the culmination of all the timelines...at least at that time. _D__éjà __vu _hit her hard as she opened the panel and looked into the small chamber, but of course there wasn't anything there.

"Rose? _Rose!" _The Doctor looked as if he'd been trying to get her attention for some moments. He was done reverting the Dimension Cannon to one of its original functions. "Do you remember how to use this?"

"Easy peasy," said Rose, though she felt as if she was moving in a dream as she picked up an attachment from the Dimension Cannon and plugged it into the nearest available laptop on the conference table just beside them. As the software initialised on plug-in, she chose the appropriate options with one hand on the keyboard, while the other took the Doctor's hand as he approached.

"Do you, Rose Marion Tyler, take my hand to place in the Dimension Cannon, to measure and to analyse, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to read my timeline from this day backwards?" The Doctor intoned.

Rose took her eyes off the screen, in order to appreciate the serious look on the Doctor's face, that was betrayed by one quirked eyebrow.

"I do, you _idiot," _she said, making the Doctor laugh. She checked that he wore no rings on the offered hand, and quickly folded up his sleeves. She held his forearm and was careful to insert only the Doctor's hand into the chamber, silent and concentrating even as he wiggled his fingers playfully. She averted her eyes just in time as the bright light of the scanner read the chamber's contents—the Doctor's hand—and waited for the results on the laptop screen. What finally appeared after several seconds made no sense.

"I seem to be getting the results cut off at the point you're at... hrmm... these coordinates..." It was always easier reading the time-stamps, but she was rubbish at translating location coordinates, though this one looked familiar. The last time-stamp was in the future, but that wasn't anything unusual if he'd traveled back from it. She turned the laptop around so the Doctor could read the screen. He dropped his playful look.

"That's from a little after I completed the Vortex Manipulator, I think. Did you check your parameters?" he suggested.

"I did," said Rose unhappily, angry at this glitch, or at least she hoped it was a glitch. If it wasn't, they were in serious trouble.

"Try it again," the Doctor said softly.

As she ran the program to scan the Doctor again, she felt as if her body was tearing itself into two. There was one Rose, fingers and eyes on the laptop, her heart in her mouth, stomach twisting itself into knots. And there seemed to be another Rose within the same space, watching quietly, having seen all this before, calm, yet unreal, as if she was only in a lucid dream, experiencing everything but _feeling_ nothing.

Numbers filled her screen. Numbers and coordinates that should have gone on and on and on, backwards into the Doctor's past—but they were cut off again. This time, the feed was even shorter. The words "END OF RESULTS" at the bottom of the lines of numbers told her it was final, that there was no glitch. She heard herself give a choked sound, saw Dave rushing to her, and the Doctor removing his hand from the Dimension Cannon, moving to catch her in a vise-like hug.

But it wouldn't be enough to stop the feeling of herself unraveling, like the Doctor's past was unraveling in the numbers right before her eyes.

* * *

"Where is he? I mean, where are you?" asked Harriet Jones as she glared at the scarf-less Doctor. She had been watching all the alien screens for over thirty minutes and nothing had changed since the Future Ugly-Scarf Doctor had charged her with the task. Finally she'd gotten a bit tired and thought she'd run quickly to check on the Doctors. The lone Doctor looked up at her from the mess of wires and metal parts on the engine room floor and blinked at her.

"Beg your pardon?" he asked. "Me?" His sonic screwdriver was poised just above something that looked like a food processor.

"The other you. The one who was here, from the future."

"Oh," he said, attention returning to the construction of his... what was it? Vortex Manipulator. "_Me_. Me from later. I'm very busy. _Will_ be very busy. Places to do, things to see. I just wish I'd..." His voice trailed off.

"Just wish you'd...?" Harriet Jones prompted.

The Doctor shook his head as if to clear it. "Just wish the other me had been able to stay. He told me how to build this thing (not that I wouldn't have been figure it out) but it did save time. For some reason, it just..." He shook his head again. "It's all getting fuzzy. Why is it getting fuzzy?"

Harriet Jones, of course, had no answer for him. In fact, she'd forgotten about the other Doctor by now.

"Timey-wimey stuff," said the Doctor finally. "It can be a bit much to keep track of."

"Really?" said Harriet. "So how long before you have that thing completed?"

"Not too much longer. Then we are out of here."

"And the aliens?"

"What about them?"

"What should we _do_ about them?"

"One thing at a time, please," said the Doctor distractedly.

* * *

"It's like _Back to the Future_," wailed Rose. "That grayness I saw, it's going to catch up with you. You'll become transparent and start disappearing while playing the guitar."

"No guitars here, Rose," said the Doctor through gritted teeth. "And what have I said before about that movie?" He sat next to her, fingers flying over laptop keyboard, re-entering new settings to run another scan. "Alright, so I'm disappearing, starting in the past after the Vortex Manipulator was created, but I still have _Now." _He kissed her forehead, before taking his place next to the Dimension Cannon again. He placed his hand in the scanning chamber as before. "Run that again. Forwards this time. Just hit Start."

Rose did as instructed, swallowing her worry and fear. She was aware of Dave standing behind her, trying to be helpful but utterly useless, and Lynn even more so, anxiously looking at them every so often from her side of the office. As glowing numbers filled her screen (but not enough), Rose saw that the list of coordinates cut off again—and not that long from now. Less than an hour. A half-hour. At the location of the anomaly right outside their door. "END OF RESULTS" stared at her again, tauntingly. She bit her lip against a scream. The Doctor looked at her and seemed able to read her face.

"Run it again. No, amend that. Run it twice, in succession."

She did as she was told, nodding at the Doctor before she started the scans again. This second time, the results were truncated twenty minutes into the future. The third set of results cut off at twenty-eight minutes into the future. "It keeps changing," she said in confusion. She showed him the latest two sets of results, and watched as he closed his eyes and sighed. It sounded like relief.

"It's going to be alright, then?" Rose asked tentatively.

"Yes and no, Rose." He was a blur of activity again, his hands back inside the Dimension Cannon, sonic screwdriver buzzing away.

A thought occured to Rose. "You're going to tell me things are in flux, aren't you?" she said. "Is there time to explain?"

"I'm going to have to anyway," his tone was terse. "I may not be able to complete this, Rose, and you'll have to finish it." As she watched, he started dismantling part of the Vortex Manipulator.

"What—"

"We're at a point, Rose, where things could go different ways. But now I know how the space-time crack, the one just outside, is going to close. Now I know how I'm going to get rid of the alien ship, and get myself and Harriet Jones off it, except if I can't do it, you have to. _Someone_ has to. Rose, in this branch of the timeline, everything I've done is unraveling, starting in the moment I complete the Vortex Manipulator and get off the ship, twenty-eight minutes from now. Only that moment, because I wasn't a threat to the space-time crack before it." He barked a quick laugh. "Rose. It's all been... this is all going to be tied up in how the crack closes. I get it now. I feel stupid—_is that how you humans feel all the time?—_but then, that space-time crack is a new thing. Sure I can close it with a paradox, with a very very very _very _complicated space-time event, but I forgot—_I can't believe I forgot_—that what this anomaly does is _un_write history. It's been un-writing—_is_ un-_writing _my very very very _very _complicated space-time event, faster than I can complete it. Undoing _all my hard work_! Oh, that makes me mad, Rose."

She'd forgotten how fast he could talk. He paused only to struggle with a very stubborn circuit board, which he stared at for a moment, then tossed aside. As he started connecting wires from the Vortex Manipulator to the Dimension Canon, Rose asked: "What needs to be done now?"

"What needs to be _made_ now is a Paradox Machine. _Bleuuuurgh,"_ said the Doctor with a theatrical shudder even as he continued to work. "I don't have to talk again about the last one, do I? Nasty business."

"The last one?" Rose frowned, trying to recall his account of it. "The one that was made out of the TARDIS by... by the Prime Minister that wasn't Harriet Jones?"

"Yup."

"I take it you can make _this one_ out of the Vortex Manipulator and Dimension Cannon?"

"Yup." This time, the Doctor shot her a quick smile, his first in a long while. "Even if I'm stupid sometimes, I'm still brilliant."

"That _does_ sum you up," agreed Rose.

"The Paradox Machine will fix my very very very _very _ complicated space-time event in place, and pin it to the space-time crack too. You'll have to go back in time to...you know what? It _is _like _Back to the Future._ Everything I've done needs to be restored. Redone, if needed. Come here," said the Doctor. "I don't have much time left. I may not be able to finish this."

Rose walked to him, a protest on her lips to his statement, but now he was placing his hands on both sides of her face, his eyes boring into hers. His mind touched hers, and she felt him—for lack of any other word—_uploading_ schematics into her mind. She groaned. "I can't do this."

"If anyone can, it's you," murmured the Doctor.

"Doctor, some of the notes on those diagrams are in _Gallifreyan."_

"Woops," said the Doctor. "Alright, fixed that. Am still brilliant."

Rose had no answer to that, trying to understand the mental images, already feeling alone and afraid. She knew the Dimension Cannon—had helped build it, but with a _lot_ of help, and the Vortex Manipulator was new, and so, so _alien. _She could read the Doctor's blueprints, more or less, but she wouldn't know what bit was doing what and it all just made her groan again, until she stopped short—the Doctor was removing his wedding band. It was tight—it resist the knuckles on his skinny finger, but he got it off with just the tiniest fumble when he saw her watching him.

"Rose, this is me," he said, his jaw tight as he put the ring in her hands and folded her fingers around it. Rose shook her head, but he tightened his hold. "Don't lose this. It's _me_. _This _will help you understand how everything works, I promise. And if something happens, I don't want that disappearing back to wherever it came from. You _know_ it's important to me, to _us_, but more than that—" he sighed, then shook his head with a rueful smile, before he continued:

"There's a neural relay system in here, Rose. That's the 51st century name for the technology, mind you. In current terms, think of something that records one's thoughts, one's consciousness. But, with those being how they are, how quickly we think, the data pattern recorded only lasts so long in this simple little system, unless it's transferred—" he drew out his sonic screwdriver, and to Rose's amazement, took his ring back again to demontrate how its circumference fit snugly onto a portion of the device "—to a hard drive of the capacity that Torchwood _may_ have. But we don't need that." He separated the two objects again and returned the ring to Rose's palm. "_You_ don't need that. All you need to do is put this on."

"And... you'll be in my head?" asked Rose wonderingly.

"In a sense. Your brain doesn't exactly have the power to run two persons' data patterns at the same time. Well, I may be wrong there," he said, recalling how she'd managed to be Bad Wolf, and lived, "but what you'll definitely have, is access to my data—easiest to access will be my most recent thoughts and memories. Then you'll have everything you need to make this work, with or without me."

Rose closed her fingers around the Doctor's ring on her own this time.

"Good girl," said the Doctor, giving her a kiss on her forehead.

"If this works, you'll be alright?"

The Doctor beamed at her. "If this works, this world will end. Things will go back to the point the Paradox Machine kicks in, and space-time will go a different way. Remember my timeline, the one that goes forward, where it ends? It won't be just me, Rose, it'll be you and everyone else too." He frowned in thought. "You've been through this before, just a bit different... do you remember ever meeting Donna Noble in a universe where I'd died?"

"Yeah, I was the only one in this world who experienced it; I thought it was all a dream. A nightmare."

"Like that. Only, a dream within a dream. This will work, Rose. Even if I disappear, there will be another dream, another world where the Paradox Machine works, and holds my very very very _very _complicated space-time event in place. That's what it does. And even that will be a dream. I'll see you when we wake up."

Rose bit her lip. The Doctor returned, quietly, to constructing the Paradox Machine. Rose sat silently beside him as he worked, her right leg and hip against his left, never breaking the contact with him.

Up until the moment he winked out of the world.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **_In the previous chapter, the neural relay system in the wedding bands is not new—I borrowed it from _Silence in the Library _(and_ Time of the Angels_), where it is that tech that makes data ghosts possible. I figured rings that have demonstrated sensitivity to psychic effects and mental communication would not have to stretch far to have data-ghost capabilty. _

_And, timey-wimey mess concludes in this chapter. I confess I don't know if I kept it all straight, but the Paradox Machine (crafty invention that it is) is more or less the end-all explanation for how everything holds together. I hope it hasn't been too much of a headache trying to follow it all so far—my apologies, and I hope other things in this story make up for it. We have yet to get to the Eleventh Doctor!_

* * *

**T Minus 88 Days, 0 Hours, 42 Minutes (and 37 seconds, and counting)**

Rose stared at the Doctor's ring in her hands for a moment before slipping it onto the ring finger on her right hand. It felt appropriate, as she wore _both_ their wedding bands, that she felt like two people at once. She picked up the sonic screwdriver from the floor, the same one that had been in the Doctor's hands just a second ago. Not trying to think too much, she continued his work. The Doctor had been just minutes from completing the Paradox Machine, and she finished it in moments without fanfare. When she looked up, both Dave and Lynn were watching her. She gave them instructions to move the machine outside, as close to the anomaly as they could get it.

Then she called her father on her phone, and baffled him further by asking him to check the pockets on her pink bathrobe. He found a piece of paper. It had coordinates. In fact, it was a short list of them. He read them to her. She found a piece of paper, and a pen, and wrote them down. Then she took them to the Paradox Machine, and pre-programmed the first coordinates into it.

She was, for the moment, part timelord, part human; part Rose, part Doctor. It hurt her head, but not as badly as the time (she recalled faintly) that she was Bad Wolf. And one thing she knew, something she knew the Doctor had not wanted to acknowledge, was that she would be better creating the very very very very complicated space-time event than he was. Because she had been in the TARDIS more than this incarnation of him. Because she had been Bad Wolf. The crack was not going to unwrite her so easily. She just hadn't known how to do it before. But now, with part of the Doctor's consciousness with her, she did. She could.

The Dimension Cannon had been so called because when it was first built, it had, for a time, fired her into other universes, other dimensions. Now it was going to help launch her into the past, and to where she needed to be, to bring the Doctor and his very very very very complicated space-time event back again.

She explained quickly to Lynn and Dave what they had to do. Of course they hadn't used the cannon before; in _their_ pasts, it had never been needed. The stars had never gone out. They listened in amazement, then did as told, and before long, she was standing in front of the modified cannon/Paradox Machine's business end, the anomaly behind her, the word "initialise" issuing from her lips.

The next thing she knew, she was in the alien's engine room (in its past, when it was still on its earth-bound journey), surrounded by its engineers. She cloaked herself immediately with her ring, nearly swallowing her tongue in the process, but thankful she hadn't given herself away. Then, as silently as she could, she assessed the room, even peeked around one of the aliens to read their computer displays, and was unable to stop a grin from growing on her face.

_Oh, Doctor, you only secured one engine from the aliens because the other one they were carrying, the one that "failed", was mine._

She stood between two alien engines. Picking the one in use _(Such pretty lights! _She thought_)_, she reached for its shiniest, most vital and dettachable-looking part, and yanked it out.

The engine room broke into pandemonium. Engines didn't usually fail mid-flight without preceding signs of trouble; alarms rang out, lights dimmed, and only vital programs kept running, fueled by stored secondary power. She watched as the alien engineers, confused but calm, decided to switch to the second engine without delay. It kicked into action, killing the alarms and restoring the lights and power. Rose kept back as the aliens then started to fuss over the first engine, flummoxed by its failure and missing piece. She amused herself and confused them further by using her ring to occasionally cloak other parts of the engine from view, throw illusions of sparks here and there, and generally challenge them as much as she could until they gave up.

Still hidden from their sight, she started using the "failed" engine to build her own Vortex Manipulator.

* * *

"Where is he? I mean, where are you?" asked Harriet Jones (of the present) as she glared at the scarf-less Doctor next to the alien ship's engine. She had been watching all the computer screens for over thirty minutes and nothing had changed since the Future Ugly-Scarf Doctor had charged her with the task. Finally she'd gotten a bit tired and thought she'd run quickly to check on the Doctors. The lone Doctor looked up at her from the mess of wires and metal parts on the engine room floor and blinked at her.

"Beg your pardon?" he asked. "Me?" His sonic screwdriver was poised just above something that looked like a food processor.

"The other you. The one who was here, from the future."

"Oh," he said, attention returning to the construction of his... what was it? Vortex Manipulator. "_Me_. Me from later. I'm very busy. _Will_ be very busy. Places to do, things to see. I just wish I'd..." His voice trailed off.

"Just wish you'd...?" Harriet Jones prompted.

The Doctor shook his head as if to clear it. "Just wish the other me had been able to stay. He told me how to build this thing (not that I wouldn't have been figure it out) but it did save time. For some reason, it just..." He shook his head again.

"He needed to go on a merry goose chase," said a familiar woman's voice out of thin air. "I can help you now. You're running _late._" These words were said with the exasperation that could only come from a long-suffering wife.

The Doctor and Harriet Jones looked up to see Rose Tyler walking from empty space and into their sight, as if she had come out from behind a wall that wasn't there.

"What happened to me?" The Doctor asked, his eyes on Rose's Vortex Manipulator.

"Sorry, _luv," _Rose murmured as she bent down, removing _another _sonic screwdriver from her pocket—his, he realised—and started assembling engine parts next to him. "You just weren't very very very _very_ complicated enough."

"Oi," said the Doctor, hurt. But she kissed him on his forehead, which _did_ make it better. In fact, the contact between her lips and his skin seemed to restore him—the working and assembly of the makeshift Vortex Manipulator was _clear_ in his head again—he didn't understand why it was getting fuzzy before.

Was it fuzzy before? Timelord senses tingling, he looked at Rose, head cocked.

"What?" asked Rose, not looking up from her work. Her hands and fingers were moving at a speed and with a knowledge that was nearly supernatural. They were almost done. It shouldn't have been possible. At least, that was what he thought until he noted that she was wearing _two_ rings.

"Did you just save me from something?" the Doctor asked. More than that, he knew he couldn't, shouldn't, ask.

She looked at him then, her eyes twinkling, a smile on her lips. "You don't have to sound so bloody grateful," she said.

They completed the Vortex Manipulator together, at least up to the point the last piece was still to be disconnected from the alien ship. Once that happened, nothing, not even peppermint oil, was going to stop the aliens responding to the alarm that the ship was completely engine-less.

Rose checked the work over quickly, then helped the Doctor put the Vortex Manipulator, as it was, onto his back. Then she turned to Harriet Jones. In one hand, she held a folded piece of paper. In the other, Harriet Jones' note-taker.

"Madam President, I have two favours to ask," said Rose. She placed the note-taker in Hariet Jones' hand first. "Give this to me the next time you see me. To be specific: the first time you see me next. It has files, codes; just information needed to keep the Viceroy distracted. Don't tell me you got this from, well, me. Just say it was from the Doctor."

Harriet Jones nodded.

"This," said Rose, passing her the folded piece of paper, "you don't even have to say anything at all. Just put it in the pocket of the pink bathrobe. It'll be clear when you come to it."

"Pink bathrobe," repeated Harriet Jones. "Alright."

Rose smiled at the Doctor and Harriet Jones. "You have no idea how good it is to _see _you." She gave them a hug at the same time, ignoring the puzzled looks from the Doctor all the while. "Now, you didn't see _me_. This will all be a dream. Now go, both of you. I'm just here to make sure it works," she said, tapping the Doctor's Vortex Manipulator.

"You confound me, Rose," said the Doctor. But he still started entering coordinates into his Vortex Manipulator, and Harriet Jones didn't say anything when he took her hand.

"Madam President, we have to go. Boss's orders," he said, quirking his head at Rose. Rose grinned.

"See you later," said Rose. She ripped the last required component from the alien ship, and plugged it into the Vortex Manipulator on the Doctor's back.

The Doctor's machine activated, and then they were gone.

The next scene was familiar to Rose as alarms erupted and lights dimmed in the engine room again. At least this time she was alone, for the moment. "Hush," she whispered, almost to herself, as she used the sonic screwdriver to jam the locks on the door to the engine room. That would buy her some time.

She removed the Vortex Manipulator from her back, dismantling it as quickly as she could. Then she replaced the stolen parts back into the plundered skeleton of the alien's second engine, rebuilding it— with a small but important change. She was going to send the engine—and only the engine—into the past. To coordinates she had looked up, given to herself, then memorised. To the moment the ship was being prepared for voyage and having its second engine installed. The second engine that had always been the first.

It seemed to her nicely circular, timey-wimey, and very very very complicated. This Paradox Machine had its work cut out for it—and cut out _by_ it, for that matter. The machine could never have been built... if it had never been built. Even human Rose could admire the beauty of that.

She ignored the scratching at the door, working as quickly as she could. When she was done, the restored but different engine disappeared in front of her eyes. The doors to the engine room opened, and clicking, angry aliens burst into the room.

"Now for my _very_ last trick," Rose said. Phone and sonic screwdriver in her hands, she sent a signal to the Dimension Cannon/Paradox Machine down on Earth. She waited only a half-second, giving the Paradox Machine time to engage and isolate the space-time anomaly in front of it. Then she called the Paradox Machine _to _her.

The aliens, the ship and entire universe seemed to be screaming at the same time as the machine _and _space-time crack was transported into their midst. The bright, erasing light from the gaping maw of the crack's sinister smile almost blinded Rose; she threw her hands up to block the light—and noted with regret that the Doctor's ring had already disappeared from her right hand finger. And she thought she saw, but couldn't be sure, the Doctor dettaching himself from the side of the Dimension Cannon/Paradox Machine and approaching her with a Dimension Jumper. "Not today, Rose," she thought she heard him say, before he wrapped her in his arms and took her away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **_Yep, the story's not dead. Thanks for staying with it-updates will come more frequently in the near future, as I DO want to finish it!_

* * *

**T Minus 87 Days, 23 Hours, 58 Minutes (and 27 seconds, and counting)**

"_Even if I disappear, there will be another dream, another world where the Paradox Machine works, and holds my very very very very complicated space-time event in place. That's what it does. And even that will be a dream. I'll see you when we wake up."_

* * *

Rose struggled and gasped out of pure instinct. There was a pressure on her chest and around her body, a roar in her ears, and a blinding white light she could see even though her eyes were closed. _It feels like dying,_ she couldn't help thinking, certain she could feel the white-heat and oblivion of the space-time crack reaching towards her. _I did what I could_, she thought as she sobbed, and it was then that she heard her name.

"Rose!"—the Doctor's voice cut through to her dream-that-wasn't-a-dream. She struggled again, kicking and fighting, then stopped abruptly as she heard the Doctor gasp in pain. She was free. The pressure around her gave way, and she opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light... of an ordinary and quiet city street at night, though it was a familiar one. She looked up and saw zeppelins—and for a split-second was disappointed to see them. Her spirits picked up as she looked around her, and saw no glowing space-time anomalies hanging in mid-air. Just the container office, and the construction hoarding, and Agents Lynn and Dave standing at a distance, watching with relief and puzzlement.

And there was the Doctor, beside her, looking up at her from the ground, looking both dignified in his tuxedo and coat yet undignified for sitting awkwardly on a patch of grass, a Dimension Jumper around his neck. The sight was strangely familiar.

After assessing her surroundings, Rose put a hand on her head and was rather surprised there was only one of it—there were too many memories swirling in it, of different lives lived in too short a time, impossible timelines, a feeling all too familiar, of everything being possible and impossible all at once. Dreams that were not dreams, lost in a haze of golden light... she looked at the Doctor for explanation, but was unsettled by the grim shock on his face, which cleared as soon as he seemed to notice her noticing.

"You're impossible," he said softly almost to himself. When Rose reached her hands to him, without thinking, to help him to his feet, he pulled her down to him. It was then Rose's turn to be a little shocked as he put his hands on the sides of her face and turned her this way and that, to examine her in the street lights. That done, he examined her hands, and they both noted at the same time that they each had their own ring on their hands. They sighed as one.

"Tell me we closed the crack," said Rose. "Did we?"

"Tell me you're OK," said the Doctor. "Tell me who you are."

"What? I'm fine. I'm _Rose_," said Rose, perplexed.

It was only then that the Doctor smiled. His relief was palpable. "You knocked the wind out of me," he said as he got to his feet, Rose rising with him.

"Sorry," muttered Rose. "I thought I was... I thought I was dying..."

"I know," he said, his grip on her hand tightening. "We lost the Dimension Cannon. And I almost lost _you_. Technically—" he winced a little "—we might have lost _a_ Rose and _a _Doctor in the paradox..."

Rose frowned, memory of the other timeline coming back to her. "I _was _dying. Well, we were. You were with me. Inside my head. I didn't expect you to come for me. You couldn't have, if..." It was all hurting her head, and she groaned. This was what she got for going timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly. "Did we close it? The crack. I don't see it here..."

"I think so. I'll need Torchwood sensors to confirm it. We certainly complicated things with the Paradox Machine, and we definitely managed to _move_ it. I'm going to say that's fantastic for now." He flashed her a quick smile, then wrapped Rose in a hug. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," Rose said reluctantly. She seemed all intact, but oddly disappointed and confused that she was only in one time and place, and was alone in her head. "Give me a moment." She gently pushed the Doctor away and leaned against a streetlamp. "I'm alright."

Lynn and Dave were approaching cautiously now. The Doctor closed the distance to them, glancing behind at Rose, but giving her time to gather herself. She heard them discussing coordinates and monitors, and was grateful just to have someone else worry about those for the moment. A vacation suddenly looked like a really good idea. Somewhere without space-time cracks and schematics for Paradox Machines or Vortex Manipulators.

"I just gave Lynn and Dave the last coordinates of the alien ship." The Doctor said, returning to her side, a little too soon. "Of course they had no idea what alien ship I was talking about. Because now it's never arrived. It's going to take some time to get confirmation on its whereabouts, because we'd be looking for... Rose?"

She waved his concern away. "I'm just getting used to being myself again. And I'm tired," she said, which was true. She was tired, physically, and also tired of trying to remember what had happened, or hadn't happened. Her mind also seemed to be exhausted but happy to be rid of the Doctor's neural relay patterns. Thinking like the Doctor, even in a dream and for a short moment, had been a little too much for her head. She was glad it was over, _if_ it was over...

"Is it over then?" Rose asked. "I'm guessing that both you and I know what happened in the other timeline. But is there anyone else who does?"

"Not fully, but yes, and I was about to say earlier, we should probably meet for a debriefing—"

Rose's phone rang, and she groaned in disbelief. She drew it out of her pocket and looked at the unidentified caller. The Doctor was gesturing, and if Rose could read lips, she'd have figured out he was trying to say: "That would probably be _her _calling—"

"Hello?" said Rose, phone already at her ear.

"Rose Tyler? I think we need to meet. This is Harriet Jones, the President..."

* * *

An hour later, the streets were deserted apart from a few straggling late-night shoppers. Doctor was silent in the President's limousine as it took them back to Torchwood headquarters after their private debriefing with Harriet Jones. It had gone quickly, with Harriet accepting quite readily their explanations of her odd, mixed memories. The meeting had concluded with the President wishing them a merry Christmas, and handing Rose her tailor's business card. The crooked smile that'd lit up Rose's face had been the best gift the Doctor could have asked forr.

Beside him on the back seat, Rose was now slipping in and out of sleep, bronze hair hiding her face every time her head tipped forward. When their driver took a swerve, the Doctor gracefully caught Rose as she swayed toward him. She didn't protest, and the Doctor found himself peering at her face, checking _again_ for the golden light he thought he had seen earlier. It had to have been his imagining, or, for all he knew, some haloing effect of her proximity to the space-time crack. He didn't want to think about what else it could have been, what else it had reminded him of.

They reached Torchwood Tower, Rose waking up on her own upon arrival. It was almost midnight, and their return to the Torchwood building was without fanfare. The Doctor practically marched Rose back to their zeppelin, still docked at the top of the building. He helped her remove her coat, then watched as she fell asleep again before she even hit the pillows. He kept watch over her in silence for at least twenty minutes more before being satisfied that she seemed, outwardly, fine.

He was tired himself, yet a part of his brain, he knew, would keep spinning its wheels until the mystery and problem of the cracks was solved. And he could not be sure another alien ship would come by again to dump Vortex technology into his lap. This last one had been a rather nice Christmas present, to be sure. For what it had accomplished, anyway.

The Doctor sighed as he tiptoed around the airship and divested himself of his coat. He loosened his bowtie, and was unbuttoning his shirt when his fingers tangled with the cord of the Dimension Jumper. He took it off thoughtfully, then laid it carefully on the dresser beside his half of the bed.

It was a long time before he fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**T Minus 86 Days, 11 Hours, 33 Minutes (and 0 seconds, and counting)**

"Not quite the beach vacation I wanted." The quip, even as she uttered it, sounded childish, but it was the best Rose could do as she stared glumly at Bad Wolf Bay. _At least it looks different in winter,_ was the most charitable thought she could muster about the coastline. The water was frozen and covered in snow and ice near the shore, and with the dark grey sky, the freezing scene seemed leeched not just of warmth but colour. Rose and the Doctor were here to look for the (second) crack in space-time left by the TARDIS, but Rose was happy to leave that job to the Doctor. She turned her face away from the cold wind and wrapped her woollen scarf around her face before folding her arms, impatient to leave as soon as possible. Beside her, the Doctor's shoes crunched on sand and ice. They moved slowly, hesitantly, before stopping a short distance away.

"I see it," said the Doctor.

"Do it quickly," said Rose. She blinked rapidly. The air was making even her eyeballs freeze. At least, that was what she told herself. Glancing occasionally towards the Doctor, she saw him walk in a large circle around the barely-visible space-time crack, hanging in the air where the TARDIS had last been. The Doctor deposited what looked like small rocks at regular intervals around the spot. They were disguised sensors that would keep tabs on the anomaly for Torchwood.

With that done, the Doctor started walking back to Rose's side. She found, as he was walking towards her, that her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. There had been too much heartbreak for her on this beach, and sharing that with the Doctor, this other him, this different him who was not exactly _him_ but could grow old, she didn't know how to feel. Her eyes stung from the cold; the rest of her face was numb. The Doctor looked at her strangely as he got closer, his steps even slowing uncertainly. Then he closed the distance between them and hugged her. This made it hard for her to carry out what her first instincts had told her to do, which was hit him, though she hadn't been planning to do it hard. And it wasn't even _him_ whom she wanted to hit.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive him for what he did," said the Doctor, reading her mind, of course. "Don't know if I can ever forgive _me."_

When she didn't answer, the Doctor drew back from the hug, his face grim, but his hands kept contact with her arms. Rose found herself looking out at the sea.

"It's done?" she simply said, which was a question whose answer was obvious, but she had nothing else to say, and even then, her voice cracked.

"Yep," said the Doctor softly, and Rose reached for her phone, to make the phone call to Torchwood that would get them back to England, back to home.

"Rose," said the Doctor.

She didn't want to hear whatever he had to say, certain nothing could pick up her rapidly-worsening mood. She blamed it on the weather.

"Shut up," Rose said through gritted teeth. She didn't mean it in anger, but her voice came out hard and tight. He'd wanted to come to Bad Wolf Bay without her, but she'd refused to let him do it alone. And now that it was done, she was quickly becoming _undone,_ and all she wanted was to go home, to Mum and Dad and Tony and Christmas. To hell with the two Doctors and all space-time cracks and all links to her previous world.

"I can continue working on this case without you, if it would make you feel better," he said quietly.

Her hands were shaking, too hard to be able to operate her phone. "You don't..." she began. She took a deep breath, then glared at the Doctor. "You don't look into my head when I'm mad at you. And I _know_ it's not you, 'cept all I have to be mad at is _you_ and I know it's not fair, but I don't know how... how..."

"I know how you feel, Rose," said the Doctor, setting his jaw. "Even without reading your mind. I really do."

That did make her feel better. She looked at him again, and finally noticed how he shivered in the blasted Norwegian cold. She could swear his noise was turning red, and that made her want to grab him and kiss him, cept it was just a better idea to get out of here. Her fingers did finally work, and it was just several seconds later they were blinking and back in Torchwood Tower. Words between them became scarce, with work taking priority. They ran some tests on the data feeds coming in from the just-planted devices, were satisfied, then bid the other Torchwood staff Merry Christmas.

They were heading back to the zeppelin, intending to take it to the Tyler Mansion for Christmas Eve with her parents, when Rose spoke up.

"I know I haven't done much on for the space-time cracks," she said, shaking her head as he started to protest, "but I'm staying put. That's my world back there, that this problem came from. Yours too, I know. But I just hate that beach. That's all. I can still work with it."

"I know, Rose. If anyone can do anything, it's you. I was just offering the option."

Rose had a thought. "The paradox we created—the stuff that happened but then didn't happen—is it... isolated from us? Could we travel safely from a paradox, I mean, relatively safely, back to...?"

The Doctor smiled wanly at Rose. It was a slightly crooked one, that made Rose's heart skip a beat.

"We could. On paper yes. But it's an idea that has no practical way to be done right now."

"Yet, you mean."

"The last paradox was a...challenge, Rose, and almost undid itself while we were at it. We had no time. If we could create another, it would have to be in a way that fixing the paradox in place wasn't so damn urgent." They had reached the zeppelin, and the Doctor politely stood one side to allow Rose to board first.

She hesitated, a question burning in her mind. She wasn't sure if she should ask, but her pause had been noticed and now he was raising an eyebrow as they stood in the cold December air outside the airship. Their breaths clouded in the air.

"Don't you ever want to go back?" she blurted at last.

He had already known she was going to ask. "Sometimes I think about it, but not that often."

"It's where we came from."

"A universe in which my home is gone. Destroyed. Rose, in this universe, my home planet never existed. I don't know if it makes sense, and it's something that took me some time to think about, but in this universe, I've had no home to lose. Only one to gain. And... you."

"Me?" Rose entered the zeppelin then, walked to the ship's console and called up Tyler Mansion's coordinates. She cast her glance backwards, watching as the Doctor followed and closed the door behind him. She set the ship on its course.

"If _you're_ here, I'm in the right place," said the Doctor. He locked the main door to the ship's cabin with a loud _click_ as if punctuating his sentence with it.

_I'm not sure I am, _thought Rose, after which she felt immensely guilty, and anxious if he had picked up her thought. If the Doctor had, his face gave no clue. He took the seat next to her slowly, then looked at her. "Do you think about going back?" The emphasis ever so slightly on the word "you".

There just wasn't any use lying to him. But it still hurt to say it. "Yes. Sometimes, a lot." She looked into the distance.

"For _him?"_

She turned away, before he could read her face, not that it would stop him from reading her emotions. This time she really couldn't answer, and she found that the tears she'd successfully suppressed at Bad Wolf Bay were now escaping her, trailing down her face because she didn't want to give herself further away by raising her hands to wipe them. It didn't matter. He was beside her, turning her toward him, his hands cradling her face and wiping her tears, which just made her lose it more. She buried her face in his chest, crying into his coat. This was her little dark secret, which had always been barely concealed, she knew, but even so, this was the last person on this earth she wanted to know it. Wracking sobs came from an empty place inside of her she doubted even a larger-on-the-inside TARDIS could contain. She could no longer tell if it was the pain of missing _him_, or the guilt _for_ missing him that felt worse.

"Rose," he said in a despairing tone, as he stroked gentle hands down her back, a gesture of which she felt completely unworthy. She was a bloody fool for still pining after the Doctor who had left her behind. But he needed her—he'd said so, hadn't he? _He needs you, and that's very me. _She felt the hand on her back freeze for a second, before resuming its soothing strokes. She felt the Doctor—her Doctor, the one she had in this world—touch her mind gently, heard his voice in her head:

_He made his choice. A choice that I know broke his heart and you could say was probably wrong, but he chose it. _

"I love you," sobbed Rose. Even in her moment of hurt, she still felt she had to assure him.

"I know," said the Doctor. "But I'm not important." He sighed, hugging her as she clung to him. "_You_ are. So we'll go back. I promise, Rose."

Her sobs were subsiding as disbelief poured into the empty spaces inside of her. And then hope. Then a mote of suspicion. "What about the cracks between this world and the other one? You'd said..."

"I know what I said, Rose. But now we've got already got one, and it's a _bit_ of a problematic one,and we might as well, _well_, use it."

"You'd also said we couldn't do that..."

"Mind like a steel trap, my Rose," said the Doctor. "I'd said that early on, hadn't I? Hadn't thought about it then, how we could _use_ it, and didn't want to, but now after everything that's happened, I will. Harder."

"Why?"

"Because doing that—albeit late—is a Christmas present I can give you that beats any cliched gift I can pick up shopping."

She laughed a little.

"And because... it's only right I try to make _you_ better too."

Rose had no answer, or at least not one in words. That night, as was their tradition in the Tyler Mansion on the Christmas eves for a few years past, they slept, "camping", under the lit tree in the mansion's grand receiving room. When the house was quiet, Rose climbed into the Doctor's sleeping bag. He ran his hands over her body and under her nightclothes, unwrapping and opening her, like a gift. The Christmas lights on the tree, reflected in the Doctor's eyes, looked like the stars in the sky of their previous world, and Rose could not take her eyes off of them as she climbed on top of him and took him inside her. As their bodies joined and moved together toward climax, she found herself asking why she thought she needed anyone else when the Doctor—_this_ Doctor—loved her, and was the one who knew how to express it, in his voice, with his hands and fingers and tongue and mouth and hips that knew how to move _just so_, until she saw not only the stars in his eyes but the ones exploding behind her own as well.

It turned out to be a good Christmas.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **_The countdown has been reinstated—they were omitted from the last two chapters, but anyway, calculating them has been an inexact science. (The countdown is to the day of Rory and Amy's wedding in "our" universe—which was, in the 2010 season, the date of the TARDIS' explosion.)_

_Just know that over a month has passed since the last chapter, which was set around Christmas. This is a talky "As you know, Jim" chapter, setting the action for the next two parts. Details from both 2010 and 2011 seasons alluded to, but not too spoilery. A bit of my own dig at how Moffat's "Doctor Who science" is worse than Davies, and more of a headache writing around, as well. (Aurrgh!)_

* * *

**T Minus 35 Days, 16 Hours, 05 Minutes (and 4 seconds, and counting)**

The noise from Rome's street traffic was an unwelcome blanket that muffled the sound from her phone. Rose frowned in irritation as she tried to block out the noise with her free hand on her other ear; if the Doctor had called in the middle of an assignment, it had to be important.

"Could you repeat that?" she yelled, like a stupid tourist, into the phone.

"...Damn ring, Rose! I said... ... ... non working!"

"What's non-working?" asked a puzzled Rose. "Hang on, let me move..." She looked around: she had surfaced from the Roman catacombs in the middle of old ruins sitting on a damned traffic circle. Sighing and blinking in the bright sunlight, she looked around for a spot that would be shielded from the traffic noise, and crouched into the lowest-set corner she could find. Better, slightly. "Could you try saying that again?"

"Is it a good time? Where are you?" The Doctor's voice was at least audible now.

"You don't ask me that after you've tried to call me _ten_ times..."

"I thought it was my duty to start getting worried!"

A faint smile ghosted her lips before Rose answered. "I'm fine! It's just... catacombs, you know? Connectivity was limited down there. And we were _busy!" _Near her, another Torchwood agent and an Italian officer strode into her view. They exchanged nods with her before the two other men lit up and shared a cigarette.

"Bad busy? Good busy?" asked the Doctor.

"Good busy? It got a bit hairy sometimes but we're all alive. The devices you gave us helped a lot. We could always see them coming. Oh, and two words: Cyber rats."

"What?"

"I can't decide which kind I hate more now. Anyway, the guys here will be busy for a while cleaning out the cybermen. It won't be easy, but having detectors has simplified the job."

"Did you say 'Cyber rats'?"

"Cyber rats," repeated Rose, laughing a little. She had known that would get the Doctor's attention.

"Could you bring me one? You know, if you haven't destroyed them all..."

"Not unless you tell me these things have Vortex technology, Doctor. These things have been in the _sewers!"_

"If you won't bring me one, I'm going to ask someone else to, I'll have you know," said the Doctor.

"You didn't call for this reason, did you?" Rose prodded, too happy to change the subject.

"OK. Well." There was a pause, then the Doctor's voice was serious. "I got the new cannon working."

Rose found herself starting, almost standing on her feet before the Roman traffic noise reminded her to stay low. "Say that again," she said in disbelief. It had only been few weeks ago the Doctor had started to build the new Dimension Cannon. The first time it had been built, it had taken Rose's team almost two _years._

"The Cannon. The new one. It works."

"That's fantastic! But have you used it already? How did..."

"There is a problem, Rose."

Rose, aglow with excitement just seconds ago, felt a chill. "Good problem? Bad problem?"

"Just a strange one, that's not going to affect travel. But where we're going _to, welll..."_

He had her puzzled again. There was only one world she wanted to get to, and if it wasn't going to get her there, then it _wasn't_ working. What on earth was he going on about?

"I don't understand."

"I don't want to say too much over the phone, Rose. Just... how soon can you get back?"

"Now." Rose gripped her phone hard. "We're done here. We can leave now. Or I can. I'll say it's a family emergency... If I stick around to hear one more _ciao bella _anyway, they'll get me for assault." She laughed desperately, ignoring the Italian officer who shot a glance her way.

"OK then. Well, alright. I'll see you then." The Doctor sounded strangely awkward, but Rose hardly noticed. Her chest was gripped with excitement and... a little bit of fear. She wouldn't be able to return to Torchwood soon enough, and she had to leave _now._ She snapped her phone shut, her mind made up and her course clear.

"Could I please have a cab?" she barked, politely, to the nearest agent. (Authority had its privileges.) When the agents gave her a questioning look, she could only answer it with a manic smile.

"I'm going home," said Rose.

* * *

The Torchwood Tower was quiet when Rose arrived, still carrying her duffel bag, in the ungodly hour of 3am. She had made her way from the airfield on her own, not bothering to trouble anyone at this hour to get her there more speedily. She nodded to the security personnel as she entered the building, heading to the lift that would take her to the one room she didn't like going to, if she thought about it. It was the bare, white room in Torchwood in which she had first been transported—and been trapped in—this universe, the room with the wall through which (in the other universe) the Doctor had opened the portal into the Void. If she could have had it her way, she would have had the Doctor use another room for rebuilding the Dimension Cannon, except that no other room fit their purpose quite as well.

The glass on the security scanner for the room was cold as Rose placed her palm on it. It made her shiver as she waited for the scanner to give her clearance, then the doors to the room _swished _open. Expecting to see the large bare wall, she was greeted instead by a mess of wires and miscellaneous equipment and _something _that looked like the old Dimension Cannon, yet was definitely more complicated. Something that the Doctor and Rose had agreed on, prior to him rebuilding the cannon, was that instead of having to transport the whole set-up to Bad Wolf Bay, they would give the new cannon the capability of using the crack in space-time there without being there itself, and so Torchwood's own transmat technology had been reconfigured in this room to work with the Dimension Cannon. It had been a massive undertaking, one that Rose felt guilty about, yet was only too happy to give entirely to the Doctor to handle, because, well, he _was_ the best man for the job.

The Doctor was not in the room. Rose could not resist her curiousity, however, and walked over to the set-up's control panel to have a look at the screen, and she saw glowing numbers from the Doctor's last test with the system that just didn't add up. And yet, he had told her the Dimension Cannon worked, and he wouldn't have lied.

She left the room, feeling an odd pang of relief as she did so, and walked the quiet hallways to her office. She wasn't surprised when she saw the Doctor in there, sprawled on the sofa in front of her desk, softly snoring. He only slept when he couldn't fight it anymore, and it was common enough for Rose to find him fallen asleep in the middle of work, and for this reason, she'd ordered a sofa placed in her office. As quietly and carefully as she could, she put down her bag, tiptoed close and loosened the Doctor's tie, then pulled the fleece throw over him. Then she sat back in the armchair adjacent and dropped her shoulders, feeling sudden tiredness and uncertainty come over her.

She had him. Why did she still think she needed anyone else? Why did she still want someone who hadn't wanted her?

Of course, she reminded herself, she wasn't returning to her old world just for the original Doctor. There was the space-time crack. They only had the one at _Dalig Ulv Stranden_ to worry about now, but it was still _work_, and Torchwood had to get to the bottom of it. The problem had the possibility of being more urgent and bigger than the Doctor—the _full_ timelord anyway, the silly twit who'd somehow gotten his TARDIS destroyed in such a way it could take the whole other universe with it. She could not even imagine what it had to take to accomplish _that_.

The Doctor on her sofa stirred, and Rose started, attention immediately shifting to him. He was shaking his head, movement growing more violent by the second, and with mild alarm Rose realised he was having a nightmare.

"Doctor..." Rose sprang to his side, staying just close enough to avoid his thrashing. But she reached for his hand, inspiration suddenly telling her to use their telepathic rings. Without thinking, she looked into his dream, with the faint idea of popping in and telling him to wake up. But it was madness and chaos and fire in his mind, the TARDIS interior bright orange and too hot from flames everywhere, and Rose almost lost herself in it. "Wake up!" she screamed, not sure if the Doctor could even hear her. "It's a dream, Doctor!"

In the real world, Rose felt the Doctor's body go slack. Wtihdrawing from his mind and shaking her head, she breathed deeply as she opened her eyes to the sight of her office again. The Doctor's eyes were open and staring at the ceiling as he gasped for breath. "Rose!" Before she knew it, she was enveloped in his tight hug, and she returned it.

"Hi," she said, after a long moment of silence. The Doctor was smiling weakly as he let her go, running his hand briefly over her hair. "You're back, and as always, just on time..."

"Bad dream?" said Rose.

The smile slipped from his face. "I'm not sure it was just a dream. Not that I have any evidence to back that up yet." The Doctor sat up, displacing the throw, and rubbed his eyes.

"How much sleep have you gotten? Go back to sleep, if you need it."

"I'm not sure I can," said the Doctor. "Have you... looked at the readings from the cannon?"

"Yeah," said Rose, frowning at the mention of that, and at the sight of the Doctor's red eyes. "I couldn't make sense of it. Should I run to get us coffee? Or breakfast?"

"Both sound good." The Doctor straightened and stood up. Rose watched amusedly as he stretched like a cat, then shook himself like a dog. Ready for the day now, he beamed at her. "You're always a sight for sore eyes."

"Sweet of you to say," said Rose as they began walking toward the staff lounge. "I could use a shower, though." He had no answer to that, and under normal circumstances Rose would have felt a little insulted. But she allowed a moment of companionable silence before asking, "What did you see in your dream?"

"You saw a bit of it," said the Doctor grimly. "The TARDIS being destroyed—fire inside and out. But, it seemed to be in a loop. At least, what I saw. Something like that happening in the TARDIS would mean it's suspended in the middle of being destroyed. Not good, but it's not gone either. In a way, the slow destuction is a chance to make things right."

"You sound as if you know for sure."

"It would make a _bit_ of sense. We're seeing the effects of the TARDIS destruction, and yet, it's not complete." His mouth moved as if to say more, then he shut it abruptly.

"What?" said Rose. They had arrived at the lounge anyway, and she paused at the door to look at him.

"Someone else was in the TARDIS."

The way he looked awkward, Rose intuited his meaning immediately. His reluctance to say it, however, was almost adorable.

"A new companion?" she asked, with a saucy smile and raised eyebrow.

"Well, you could say, not a _new _one..."

"Old companion?"

"You could say. But not an _old _one..."

"I'm confused now," huffed Rose as she opened the door to the staff lounge and switched on the lights. She had almost reached the kettle when the Doctor finally spit it out:

"Professor River Song."

Rose had to think for a moment to recall the name. Out of the stories he'd told her, this name had stuck a bit. "Oh," she said. "'Hello, Sweetie'?" She even chuckled a bit.

"You can laugh, can you? That's a good sign. Not... jealous?"

Rose had to roll her eyes, though she didn't make it obvious, busy as she was filling the kettle with water. "She obviously had a history—or should I say future—with you. But not much of one at that point...didn't she sacr—I mean, didn't she get, um, get saved? In the computer sense?"

"Yes, but it was also clear that I—I mean, the other me, was going to run into her quite a lot."

"Hmmm." Rose kept her tone neutral and light as she looked for mugs in the cupboard. "You're right. I hope yours was a vision and not a dream, or else I'd wonder why _you_ were dreaming of her. And I would be so very, _very_ cross."

When the Doctor was silent, Rose turned around to see him standing and puzzling at her with a hand on the shared refridgerator. She grinned at the look on his face, then stepped close to give him a kiss, only withdrawing when he started to respond.

"You are the Doctor. And he is the Doctor, too. But you are two different people. And I suppose, I can only have _one_ to myself. I'm not stupid, Doctor. You _did_ make it clear, once." She turned away from him, and removed a pair of mugs from the cupboard.

"I...I did? ..._What_ did I make clear?" asked the Doctor.

"That I could spend my whole lifetime with you, but you—the other you, anyway—couldn't spend your—his—whole life with me." Rose wasn't smiling anymore, but she could say it without bitterness. She fought the urge to sigh as she gazed into the two empty mugs on the counter.

"Oh, that." The Doctor gathered her close. "Doesn't apply for _me_." He returned her kiss, and this time Rose let the kiss linger. The loud hissing from the kettle interrupted after a while, and Rose broke off the kiss. _I love you_, she wanted to say. _No matter what._ But the hissing was too loud, and somewhat reluctantly, she left the comfort of his arms to return to coffee making, while he explored the refridgerator for their breakfast. Later, over microwaved sausages and muffins and fruit, conversation resumed.

"So what do the numbers from the cannon mean?" Rose asked. "I'm guessing you've figured them out." They sat on opposite sides of a simple dining table, remnants of breakfast before them.

"I have. Though it took me a while," the Doctor said modestly.

"How long?"

"A... minute." Then he grinned over his mug of instant coffee.

"You imp." Rose returned the grin. "Out with it then."

"Well, I was pretty sure I had put in the correct configuration to find our old universe with the cannon, but since the numbers coming back were so odd, what I did was change the frequency of the background radiation readings to match the highest one, and a more rational-looking pattern in the numbers emerged. A pattern of three."

"Three? Three what?" Rose asked obligingly.

The Doctor took a deep breath as if to make a dramatic revelation, and in that instant, Rose knew.

"Three timelines?" asked Rose.

The Doctor deflated, and huffed at her. "You weren't supposed to guess."

"Did I get it right?" Rose grinned. "Sorry." The Doctor returned the grin with good humour, but it disappeared quickly.

"Three timelines, Rose." The Doctor said. "As I hinted on the phone, it's up to you _which_ universe or timeline you want to go to, so to speak. But I have to say... none of the worlds look like anything you and I would recognise as entirely familiar." His face was now grim.

"How could that be? Are you sure it's our old universe, if it—I mean, they, whatever—are not recognisable?"

"I'm sure. And what I saw was that things were in flux. Nothing may look like our old universe entirely, but it's not a certain thing. Something could still change."

"Alright," said Rose. There was something strangely familiar about this lecture. She had a vague memory of having given it herself.

"In the first universe, the one with the strongest signal," said the Doctor, "The cracks in space-time are there, and history is in the midst of being rewritten. I know this will sound familiar, Rose, but, the stars are going out in that universe, because now, they never were. That universe is shrinking. The TARDIS is present, and the destruction of it is... well, in progress."

"What? Oh, right. Because the cracks from the TARDIS destruction are all over that universe's time and space."

"Clever Rose."

"What about Timelines Two and Three?"

"In the second timeline, history is.. different. There was no TARDIS, and no Doctor, and no cracks that the cannon could detect, but the stars were there."

"No you? No Doctor?"

"No Doctor. And in the third timeline or universe, time is...broken, I think" The Doctor frowned as he said this.

"How can time be broken?"

The Doctor shrugged. "It's only been something discussed in theory before. No timelord has ever seen it in existence, or would let it happen. They'd be mad to. But suppose you had a fixed point in time and space, an event that _has_ to happen or the whole fabric of the universe is threatened, and something took that fixed point away..."

"How?"

"I don't know, Rose. All I know is that time in the third universe is stuck, probably on that point the event was meant to happen, because it can't get on without it."

"Where is the Doctor or the TARDIS in that universe?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know. The readings that the dimension cannon from that universe were almost _un-_readable. Irrational really." The Doctor sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "Figuring _that_ one out took me fifty-six seconds."

"You always said, or maybe I understood, that you couldn't have a universe without time. There would be no... time for anything to happen, or change, or exist! And how does a _fixed point_ get _un-_fixed?"

"I don't know. As I mentioned, it's irrational." The Doctor considered for a while. "It doesn't make sense to go there. Such a... _situation,_ let's just call it that, wouldn't destroy the TARDIS anyway. Would drive it absolutely _barking mad, _but wouldn't destroy it. In any case, I don't think that's the universe that is causing the cracks in our world."

Rose tried to let it sink in, but it was sobering information. "How did things in our old universe get to becoming three timelines in which everything looks wrong?"

"I don't know, Rose."

"Could there be more? More timelines? Maybe one that _is_ right that maybe we just haven't found yet?"

"Think about it, Rose. It would have shown up with the rest if there were. There's still the possibility that something _will_ be fixed and that 'right' timeline will turn up. It hasn't yet. Or maybe look at it another way. Maybe the second timeline with no Doctor _is_ the timeline that fixes the first one with the cracks."

Rose stared at him. "A universe with no Doctor is not a 'right' one by any means, Doctor."

"I don't know, Rose."

Rose frowned. The Doctor seemed to be saying that a lot. And something he'd said was starting to alarm her. Her brain seemed to be working steps behind her instincts, and she hadn't quite grasped what it was... Then it came.

"If the timeline with no Doctor gets established as the 'right' timeline, Doctor, what happens to you or I?"

The Doctor sighed. "I don't know, Rose." He met her eyes plaintively. "We may still stick around, but more likely, I would not exist, and you'd go back to being a shop girl. But, it would also seem that if that happened, no one would have to worry about _two_ universes that have cracks in time and space."

Rose sat stunned. She had faced death before, but never the possibility of having her past unwritten. It was something entirely new, and utterly unpleasant, though she wondered, if it happened, she wouldn't know.

She looked at the Doctor, and his eyes were sympathetic; it was obvious he'd had the same thought.

"Should we do anything at all?" asked Rose. "Just wait for it to happen? Just wait for oblivion?"

"We _could_ wait... or just have a really great going-out party first." He smiled wryly. "Live it up, paint the town, eat puffer fish, do the bungee, shag three times a day, that sort of thing."

A tiniest smile appeared on Rose's face. "Or go back to our old universe."

"Or that."

"Am I mad to want to?" asked Rose.

"No." The Doctor reached across the table for her hand, and Rose gave it. The warmth of his touch, as always, reassured. He gave her a smile.

"I said it before when I had the TARDIS, Rose Tyler, and I'll say it again now even without it:

"We can go anywhere you want.

"Your choice."


	14. Chapter 14

**T Minus 34 Days, 07 Hours, 05 Minutes (and 28 seconds, and counting)**

"No weapons," said the Doctor as he emerged from the bedroom and saw Rose in front of their airship's arms cabinet.

"Your suggestion has been noted," said Rose, non-commitally, as she secured the cabinet door, her business accomplished. She zipped up her leather jacket before she turned around with a faint smile on her lips. They were preparing to hop universes, and she wasn't going to let even the Doctor tell her what she could and couldn't bring. Between them, _she_ was the old hat at this.

The Doctor frowned at her, but the expression didn't stick, as he was still in the middle of dressing himself after having a more restorative nap, followed by a shower. But he was also distracted, watching as Rose checked her phone, slipping it into a pocket in her jeans, and giving the cabin a once-over to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. She looked ready. He just hoped she wouldn't forget _him._ Trying to concentrate on the buttons of his shirt, his fingers were strangely clumsy.

Rose was in front of him before too long, helping him with his buttons and necktie, and he couldn't help noticing just how quickly she could move. This was all happening too fast, and he realised that he was now stalling. He had too much to lose. He had _everything _to lose.

Something in his thoughts must have reached her, because she looked up into his eyes suddenly, and seemed at a loss for words.

"I don't want to go," whispered the Doctor, gripping her arms urgently in his hands. She still said nothing, but didn't resist him. "We can wait. Time is relative, we can still wait." _Because everything I want is _here.

"You won't lose me," she said slowly, finally. "And—" Her voice cracked, and for the first time the Doctor saw her uncertainty, "I don't want to lose you either. But I'm not just going back for _him,_ don't you see? I don't want... I don't want to go back to Powell Estates, turning up for work in at _Henrick's_ everyday, not having known you or this life, or a universe without you. I want to see him, but more than that, I _need _to know what's happening, and to _fix_ it, or to know he's fixing it, that it _will_ be fixed and he and you and I had will be alright."

"Oh," said the Doctor, stupidly.

Rose's hands were still on his tie around his neck, having been interrupted in the middle of knotting it for him. She dropped her gaze back to her hands, but her fingers never resumed their work, as if she was now as hesitant as he was.

The Doctor leaned down and kissed her desperately, spurred by both love and fear. To his elation, she responded, her mouth warm and open, her tongue plaint and encouraging, and desire surged through the Doctor's body, flooding it with a delicious ache that was hardly new to him around Rose, but felt stronger now than before. How many times, when he'd been in his old body, had he denied himself _her_, her touch, her kiss, only daring to indulge in friendly hugs when he'd wanted nothing more than to do _this. _He tightened his arms around her, and was rewarded by her wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair, returning all his passion. Had they ever kissed so desperately before? He couldn't recall, and was quickly losing all reason and thought, only conscious of sensation and the strong impulse to take her where they were.

It was quick work to undress the Doctor, and a little more involved divesting Rose of her clothes, but they soon tumbled in a tangle of naked arms and legs onto the bed, almost missing it in their distraction. The Doctor groaned as Rose took his erection into her warm hand and stroked him, at the same time she planted hot hungry kisses on his mouth, jaw and neck. He kissed her back possessively, teeth nipping on her skin, centering his hips between her warm thighs. Intellectually, he understood this... fear and the unknown stretched before them, pure animal instinct driving adrenaline through their bodies along with the need to mate, to _fuck_, to hedge against the future. But none of his intellect made that call any weaker, and as his cock met her warm, wet entrance, and he heard her antipatory gasp as always before he pushed inside her, he found there was something he desperately, urgently needed to ask her before they met _him_—the other him, the other Doctor.

"This," said the Doctor, pausing, his eyes searching hers so that she would understand. "_This._ He can't have this."

"No, he can't," Rose agreed, eyelids lowered, teeth gritted as she wrapped her legs around him and her arms around his neck. The Doctor closed his eyes with that promise, giving into his body and thrusting into her. It was urgent, and messy, as if both of them knew they were running out of time; as they moved, with Rose pulling him closer with every thrust, the hard rhythm that he drove never seemed enough, and she urged him on with breathless moans beside his ear. When her breath caught, he knew she was nearly there, and he varied the angle of his hips to stroke her just _there,_ and was rewarded by her squeezing him so exquisitely that he knew he couldn't hold off his own—one last small push and he groaned with his own climax, body numb and mind empty of almost everything but pleasure/pain that this moment always brought—bliss followed too quickly by regret that it was over.

The regret and sadness stayed, grew stronger as they dressed again, quickly. The silence between them was smothering, yet appropriate, as they left the airship. He took her hand wordlessly, holding it tightly until they were in front of the Dimension Cannon again. Then they got down to work, Rose taking his instructions to calibrate the Cannon while he prepared his sonic screwdriver and the Dimension Jumpers to activate for any necessary quick exits. The urgency now was to leave before the staff of Torchwood trickled in and would try to convince them out of it, or to go in their stead—Rose had been right all along. _They_ had to do this, had to return to their old world, had to know it would be fixed, _could_ be fixed, had to know what the _other_ Doctor had done to muck the universe up.

The wall, that white wall, that had its counterpart in their old universe and had served as the gateway into the Void, started to hum. It made their hair stand on end. The crack, in the shape of that sinister smile, was a faint glow on the wall. It wasn't _there_, but provided a link they were exploiting to make the cannon work, and even knowing that, Rose shivered.

"It's ready," said the Doctor. "I just need one more thing." Rose turned to look at him, and all she saw was him pocketing what looked like a bulky spectacle case into one of his coat pockets. He offered no further information, and she didn't ask, it seemed it was all happening so fast. Before she knew it, the Doctor had straightened up from the computers and was placing a Dimension Jumper around her neck. Its twin was already on his chest. He met her eyes. "All we need to do now is touch the wall."

"Together," said Rose, as if it needed to be said.

"Together," he echoed, giving her a weak, quick smile. The faint blue glow from the wall was eerie as they approached it. When they were just a step away, they took each other's hand and reached out with the other.

And stepped into the universe without stars.


	15. Chapter 15

**T Minus 34 Days, 06 Hours, 25 Minutes (and 47 seconds, and counting)**

The universe _felt_ wrong. Everything about it—the light, the sound of it, the taste, the feel, the smell. This was new even to Rose, who remembered walking through the different universes. Each had felt different, but they hadn't felt _wrong. _Sunlight—if it was sunlight—was a sickly yellow on her skin, the taste and smell on the air was metallic, and she had the faint impression there was screaming she could hear, far far away.

She shut her eyes against the sensory assault. "Are we, are we on the right planet?" Her voice came out in a squeak, and thankfully, she soon felt the Doctor's strong grip around her shoulders, holding her steady. She hadn't realised she was swaying.

"I feel it too. It'll fade into the background in a bit. But yes, this is earth."

"You're sure?" Rose asked.

"Landed us in front of a tourist map, actually." The Doctor's voice was smug.

"I can't believe it," Rose muttered, opening her eyes. The sky was empty of zeppelins. They were beside the Thames, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben on the opposite bank, and, as the Doctor had pointed out, a information panel right beside them for the intrepid out-of-towner. It seemed an ordinary, windy day in the city, _her old city_, with no one around them running around in a panic. But squinting both at the map and the landscape around them, Rose couldn't help feeling it was _still_ wrong.

"_When_ are we?" she asked quietly, noticing there were buildings she knew missing from the skyline, and this time the Doctor was silent, gazing around them as she was.

"History is being unwritten in this universe, remember," The Doctor finally said. "I'm afraid to see just how much."

"If the stars are going out in this world, or have gone out... why has the earth's sun stayed? And why does the light... feel strange?"

Conscious of the thin crowd around them (though they were being politely ignored), the Doctor surreptitiously removed his sonic screwdriver and aimed its point at the sun, midway through the sky. He frowned at its readings—Rose, perhaps not surprisingly, was right—its usual electromagnetic range was... _not. _But before he could glean more, the device emitted a high-pitched whine.

"That's never happened before!" gasped the Doctor.

Rose couldn't answer, for her hands clapped over ears. They were starting to attract attention, and she tried to convey to the general crowd the shock and apology she was feeling. But the whine was going on _forever, _and seemed to be getting louder and more painful, and she was sure the police were going to be along any second. "Turn it off!"

"I'm trying!"

She watched as the Doctor fumbled and tried all the controls—nothing worked. Finally, out of ideas, he brought the screwdriver down hard on the stonework along the riverbank, knocking it again and again, until the whine slowly puttered and died. He gazed at his battered screwdriver in puzzlement and frustration.

"A lot of use this is going to be now," he said.

"You can fix it," said Rose.

"Maybe." The Doctor replaced it in his coat pocket and sighed.

"It's just going to be harder to find the TARDIS now, isn't it?"

"There'll be a way," said the Doctor, and Rose thought he said that a little _too_ quickly. He frowned toward the sun.

"Can you _feel_ the TARDIS? Or the other you, for that matter?"

The Doctor put a hand through his hair. "I hear... _pain._"

"Like a screaming?"

"Yes, a bit like that. Can't isolate it, though."

Rose nodded, and the Doctor tried to smile reassuringly. "It might get better when the sun goes down. We'll see then how bad the situation with the stars is. And maybe then I can get the screwdriver working again."

"What shall we do in the meantime?"

"I can think of a few things. We find us a newspaper, maybe go to the museum to see the history here—or what's left of it—but first..."

"But first?"

"Would you like to see _your memorial?"_

* * *

They almost didn't find it—to the Doctor's alarm, it had almost looked like the memorial at Canary Wharf had been erased from time too, and then it was there, wavering into view like a desert mirage. The Doctor and Rose exchanged glances after the strange phenomenon, which seemed to have escaped the notice of everyone else. Oddly, the Doctor did not try to explain, but frowned. Standing ten feet from the marble block, he planted his feet as if not to go any closer, while Rose let go of his hand to examine it. It didn't take her long to find her own name, prominent as it was at eye level.

Rose ran her fingers over the cool grey marble, daring to trace the edges of where the name _Rose Marion Tyler_ was etched deeply into the smooth stone, right above her mother's. The angular, monumental block of stone stood on Canary Wharf, in the shadow, fittingly, of Torchwood One. She was aware of the Doctor watching her intently, his arms folded. He was careful to keep his back to the Torchwood tower. Rose looked at him to see his expression, which was completely unreadable. He spoke when she seemed to be expecting him to say something:

"Does it feel anything like someone stepping over your grave?"

"What? No, just strange, that's all." She gave a little smile. "It looks nice, though."

The Doctor did not smile back. He seemed reluctant to speak. "I told them they needed to get it right," he said, slowly.

Rose received the image then, of him being consulted on—then directing—the design and construction of this memorial before her. Torchwood, at least in this universe, had owed him this. Suddenly, whether it was due to the telepathic rings or not, tears choked in her throat, and she received a second image of him standing where she now was, his fingers on the marble, on her name.

She broke contact with the memorial and stepped back, desperately fighting tears. Her chest heaved with pain. "It's lovely, it really is," she said, when she could trust her voice to speak again.

The Doctor nodded simply, his shoulders drooping slightly as if in relief. His continued silence said more than anything.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Rose felt she had no strength left to stop it. She turned back toward the Doctor. Wordlessly, he stepped forward to take her hand, as if he understood—of course he did—and then they were walking away from the memorial, as if they could leave the past behind.


	16. Chapter 16

**T Minus 34 Days, 0 Hours, 42 Minutes (and 7 seconds, and counting)**

Maybe it was the dinner now sitting heavy in their stomachs, or just the hours that had passed since their arrival, but Rose thought she was adjusting to the "new normal" of her old universe, despite of the feeling that the background noise and sunlight seemed _off._

"Could it just be... clouds, or light pollution?" she asked.

Rose and the Doctor stared into the inky blackness that was the sky above them. Rose thought she'd never seen a sky so empty, bereft of both stars and airships. The two of them sat on the steps of the British Museum, after an afternoon of wandering the halls. The Doctor had seemed to be more acquainted with the original museum than Rose, noting how many rooms were vacant (including the room for something called the "Pandorica"), and how all the alien items that had previously been mis-categorised by the museum were simply gone.

"There wasn't a cloud in the sky, earlier," said the Doctor.

"And no one here notices, either," said Rose. "They don't even know the stars are gone, do they?"

There was a question that had been burning in Rose the whole time, and now with the empty sky above them, she couldn't hold it in any longer. "How are _we_ still here? I wouldn't have gone traveling with you, if there had never been stars to travel to, in the first place."

"I've been thinking about it," said the Doctor. "I think the undoing of history hasn't caught up with us yet."

"But so much is gone. We shouldn't even be here."

"I know," said the Doctor, looking into the distance. "Time to test an idea. Keep your eyes on me, Rose."

"What?"

The Doctor had risen to his feet, and was now approaching a pair of museum staff leaving the building. They ignored him as he greeted them, and then as Rose watched, the Doctor placed himself right in their path as they descended the museum steps—and they walked right through him. She didn't know if it had been a trick of the light, but she found herself gaping. Deliberately, the Doctor tried to block them again, even waving wildly and calling, with the same results.

"You saw that?" he asked, as he returned to her side.

"We're ghosts!" It made sense, Rose recalling the day they'd had. She had just thought that everyone was a bit ruder to them as usual, even necessitating the Doctor to have to nip into the kitchens for their food. It seemed a bit ironic to Rose, who'd been trying to be invisible on her old world all this while, that she had already been that.

"Ghosts from the past," mused the Doctor. "What a nice way to put it. I'm sure a certain someone would agree."

Rose frowned at him. "Did the Dimension Cannon malfunction? Are we _dead?"_

"Oi," said the Doctor indignantly. "The Dimension Cannon—the _new_ Dimension Cannon—is perfect. I won't hear a word against it."

"Thenwould you like to explain _this?"_ asked Rose.

"Well, I'm trying," said the Doctor,. "Look, Rose." He took her hand in his. "I'm alive. I'm warm. So are you." Rose calmed at his touch, then was intrigued by the smile growing on the Doctor's face, beaming with the delight of discovery, and of course, the chance to show off.

"Pete's Wo—I mean, the world we just came from, your father's—it's our buffer from erasure, for now. Back on Pete's World—I'm just going to keep calling it that—we're still safe, as is your mum, and our history, because the destruction of the TARDIS has not happened yet there, the point of its destruction has just not reached its relative time yet."

"And yet we're not real, here?" Rose leaned into him, taking comfort in how his lean frame still felt real to _her_.

The Doctor's eyes softened. "Because our history here, as you've pointed out, _is_ disappeared." He oblingingly wrapped an arm around her.

"But we saw the memorial..."

"Do you remember how it wasn't there, at first, Rose? Then it's almost as if our presence conjured it out of thin air..."

"It made itself real for us?"

"Yes, in a way. We're all ghosts now, Rose. To be optimistic, we're all ghosts on this planet, for now, for thirty-four more days, anyway. We exist merely in potentiality, yet because of our unique situation with Pete's World, we're also a little more real than, well, spirits. Anything we want to affect needs only conscious thought." The Doctor was grinning like a mad hatter. "Though that said, I don't think we should nip back and fourth between universes, while we're here and until this thing is solved. It may be pushing our luck. "

"Can _anyone_ see us?" asked Rose.

"Those who knew us in the past, perhaps."

"You're happy about this?"

"This is every little kid's dream isn't it? To be able to go anywhere and not be seen, walk to through walls..."

"We can walk through walls?"

"I wouldn't; actually, we can't," the Doctor said. "The buildings are from our past as well as theirs, so they're real. You can try it if you want a real bump in the head..."

"So we can't walk through walls." Rose was disappointed, then surprised at her disappointment.

"We just walked from another _world_, Rose," the Doctor said. "Defenders of Earth, that we are. Or _Earths, _I should say_._ That's plenty impressive. You're welcome, by the way."

Rose tried not to encourage him. "What should us ghosts do now, then?"

"Well, we can go visit the location of the projected TARDIS destruction tomorrow. As for now, what do you want to do, Mrs. Ghost?"

Rose thought for a while, before her lips thinned in an ironic smile. 

* * *

After a supper of fruit juice, crisps and caviar on crackers, Rose was tapping idly on a laptop from Hendricks' Lost and Found while the Doctor worked on repairing his sonic screwdriver. With one twist from the Doctor's wrist of a real, proper screwdriver, the sonic version resumed making its high-pitched whine, startling them both. The Doctor muttered and undid his work, silencing the sonic screwdriver again. He sighed and looked at it forlornly.

"What's the matter with it?" asked Rose. She watched as the Doctor's jaw tightened, knowing it was bad news.

"It works. But the whine seems to be part of its working here."

"It's trying to tell you something?"

"'The TARDIS is being destroyed'? How helpful. But it's _not your job_," said the Doctor to the screwdriver.

Rose shrugged in companionable puzzlement, then pat the pillow on the display bed beside her. They were in the middle of the linens department of the department store, now dark and closed as it was after hours. The Doctor took Rose's invitation, sprawling backwards upon the bed, his striped and slim suited body making a dark contrast on the pale pink and brown duvet. He noticed in amusement that Rose would likely have chosen the same bedclothes had she made the bed herself. Beside the bed, candles were lit inside lanterns still marked with price tags.

"Not worried about security?" asked the Doctor casually, looking at the candle flames. He leaned his head against Rose's side.

"We're the ghosts. They should be scared of _us_." Rose closed the laptop and yawned. "Anyway, you may as well blow them out. I think we need some rest."

"We met down in the basement," said the Doctor sleepily later as they settled into the bed under the covers. "A long time ago. This almost feels like an anniversary."

Rose grinned. "Doesn't it?" She crawled into his embrace. His hands were wonderfully warm on the cool skin of her thighs, now that she had kicked off her jeans. "Though you did look a bit different then."

The Doctor reached up and tugged at one of his ears self-consciously. Rose did not miss the gesture, and the Doctor noticed.

"How would you feel if he's changed his face again?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"I don't know," said Rose, giving it some thought, before she answered. "Unless he's gotten younger and handsomer, I doubt he could turn me away from the fit form you've got now." She said this with a smile in her voice that was obvious even in the dark.

"Good answer, Rose."

"I thought so." She nestled her cheek into the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

"Except what if he does look younger and handsomer now?"

"I am entirely convinced this cannot be possible." Rose yawned.

"Another good answer."

"_Goodnight,_ Doctor."

"Goodnight, Rose. Sleep tight." He paused. "Don't let the Nestene Consciousness bite."

Rose slapped him on his chest.


	17. Chapter 17

**T Minus 32 Days, 19 Hours, 12 Minutes (and 56 seconds, and counting)**

It was such a very ordinary town, and such a very ordinary house with an ordinary garden that it all seemed _off._ The Doctor and Rose sat on a rusting garden bench, entirely unheeded as the house's sole occupant, a stunning young redhead by the name of Amelia Pond, left the house (five times in two days) in always different costumes: A policewoman's uniform with entirely too short a skirt, a French maid's uniform that was too short in the skirt, and a nurse's uniform that was, well, in the same vein, and so forth. Rose couldn't help pointing out that Amelia just _had _to become the Doctor's next companion if only she brought so many of her own costumes.

"And she's awfully pretty," said Rose, with a touch of wistfulness and disappointment.

"She's ginger," said the Doctor sullenly. "I wanted to have been..."

Rose gave a little snort as she turned back to the celebrity gossip rag she'd lifted from the news vendor. After about a day and a half of watching the Pond house, she'd needed something else to ease the boredom, in spite of the pending arrival of the TARDIS, or Armageddon, whichever came first.

"We could go inside the house. See if there's anything unusual about it," said the Doctor, apropos of nothing.

Rose smiled. "You're bored too? I guess it could help us know more about her..."

Her voice trailed off when there was the sound of footsteps approaching the house, and a female voice called out, "Amy! You in?" When there was no answer, the figure rounded the house, and strode into the Doctor and Rose's view: A young woman with wild dark hair, sun-drenched skin and a mischevious look that looked, well, _diabolical. _"Amy!" Even as the Doctor and Rose watched, the woman then lifted a flower pot from the side of the door to the house, picking up a keyhidden under. She used this to unlock the door.

An exchange of looks was all Rose and the Doctor needed to swiftly and silently follow her inside the house. The new woman strode through like she was familiar, her first target being a cookie tin in the kitchen, from which she took a couple of pound notes and some coins. Rose scanned the space—so large for a young woman like Amelia to be living in all alone, and yet, the photos that were on display either showed her solo (even for childhood pictures), or Amelia with the woman now in the house looking for spare cash, or Amelia with a young man with a rather distinguished face.

"Amy!" called the woman again, even as she gave up on the kitchen. She nearly walked right through the Doctor as she made a sudden turn for the staircase. The Doctor frowned in concentration as he studied his surroundings and the pile of mail on the the kitchen counter, only slowly and vaguely trailing behind Rose and the young woman. They soon came to what could only be Amelia Pond's bedroom. Rose gasped and grabbed the Doctor's sleeve, her attention arrested by a display of the childlike drawings, dolls and models of the TARDIS and a man in a brown suit.

_Amelia Pond's already met the Doctor!_

The Doctor, in response, only raised his eyebrows. The young woman was now rifling through Amelia's wardrobe, peeking into handbags for more money, they could only assume. Rose also took note of the pile of wedding magazines on the bed, an invitation for the wedding of Amelia Pond and Rory Williams, and the redheaded doll in a white dress. Her search for cash unsuccessful, the young woman was now contemptiously scanning the clothes. "_So_ last millennium," she chided.

Rose raised an eyebrow. She slowly sat on the bed in the room, if only to keep out of the young woman's way—someone she figured out was a friend of Amelia's, and not a very _good_ one, from the looks of it. The Doctor joined her on the bed, elbowing her in the side, directing her attention to the wall behind the bed's headboard.

She froze as she recognised the shape of the crack in the plaster. They sat, silent and unseen on the bed together until the young woman finally left the room, but not before, mysteriously, picking up the Doctor doll, putting a dressmaker's pin through its heart, then patting it on its head. The pin-skewered Doctor doll lay sadly now on the dressing table.

"What does this mean?" Rose whispered.

"I'm not sure yet, but it's just a matter of time," said the Doctor.

"The crack is here, but it's dormant... do you think it's already taken away members of Amelia's family?"

"More likely than not," said the Doctor, frowning.

"Yet not Amelia, and it's right behind her! Eight hours, of every day. At least." Rose did not know what to think.

"I know. She's definitely part of this. Did you also note the date on the invitation? It's the date of the TARDIS's destruction. The date _and_ time."

"So we're basically waiting for Amelia's Pond's wedding? This girl's wedding is destroying _two_ universes. How does that happen?"

"I'm starting to imagine how, but I'm not sure, Rose. But the TARDIS has been here. Maybe not in this room, but it's coming again near this house, as we've figured out from the destruction coordinates. And the first time, and possibly last time it was here, if we had to go by these drawings, was, well, when Amelia or Amy Pond was a child."

The implication took a while to fully sink in. Rose felt pity all of a sudden, knowing what it was like to wait for the Doctor. Her own experience could not compare to Amelia's, surely. Time always moved too slowly for a young child. And if the space-time crack had taken away her family, then this girl had also been alone for a very, _very_ long time. Rose's heart sank in her chest. Hope suddenly deserted her. She was in a universe she no longer recognised as the one she had grown up in, and the Doctor, the _real_ Doctor, seemed nowhere in sight to fix this.

"So much of this feels like a nightmare. And we worked so hard to get here." Rose tried to keep the despair from her voice, but it was a struggle.

The Doctor beside her placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, and his brown eyes were sympathetic.

"We're trying to fix a space-time problem—a very very very, _very_ complicated space-time problem—while traveling the slow path. It only looks bleak because we can't see how to do it yet."

"How do you do it?"

"We just keep going," shrugged the Doctor.

"That girl who was here—Amelia's friend, do you think she knows the Doctor too?" Rose's eyes were drawn to the Doctor doll on Amelia's dressing table, now with a little dressmaker's pin through its heart.

"Time will tell," said the Doctor, his face expressionless as Rose stood up and mercifully removed the pin. She replaced the Doctor doll next to the paper TARDIS. Beneath the pile of wedding magazines, a folded newspaper caught her eye, and she pulled it out cautiously. SPACESHIP OVER LEADWORTH screamed the headline. It was dated 2008, and the ship was like nothing Rose had ever seen before. She scanned it quickly before handing it to the Doctor. "He was here two years ago, from the looks of it."

"That doesn't make sense," said the Doctor, reading it in a blink. "The crack's still on the wall, and it had to have been then too. He can't have just..." He flopped a hand ineffectually at the cracked wall, "...left this unfixed!"

"Maybe the alien business kept him from putting the clues about the crack and Amelia'a family together."

"That's the only logical thing to assume at this point, I suppose." The look on his face was disapproving, and Rose half-expected him to cluck and shake his head.

"He's coming," said Rose, on instinct. "Probably to take Amelia Pond into the TARDIS, and he'll convince her he'll have back in time for her wedding, and then... and then..."

"Something. And then something else. And then _Boom! _End of the universe!" said the Doctor, startling Rose. "Sorry. But you're right. That's a plausible possibility. And if it happens as you said, that theory helps pin down when he'll make his appearance again at the Pond house."

"When is that?"

"What would be most dramatic, you think?"

"The last minute?" Rose smiled.

"Yep. The eleventh hour," intoned the Doctor with absolute certainty.


	18. Chapter 18

**T Minus 1 Days, 7 Hours, 32 Minutes (and 51 seconds, and counting)**

The tiny chocolate chip cookie and shotglass of milk were absolutely enchanting as they sat on a saucer on the wooden dinner table of Mrs Robbins. As they stood at the entrance of the kitchen from the first floor landing, the Doctor looked at Rose, a rueful smile on his face. "I'm tempted to leave a note, in tiny handwriting, that there _are_ two of us fairies," he said.

Rose rolled her eyes in good humour. "If you do that, you'd need large handwriting, what with her eyesight. And you could ask for larger portions." She walked into the sitting room, where a white-haired lady stared short-sightedly at her knitting held in arthritic fingers. Rose surveyed the room, noting the empty drinking glasses standing around the room, and small items fallen onto the floor. "How are you this morning, Mrs Robbins?" She didn't really expect a proper answer, but it filled the silence.

"Darlings? You're here?" asked Mrs Robbins. She looked at an empty part of the room.

Rose just smiled, knowing her presence was just barely detected by the old lady, and not just because Mrs. Robbins' senses were dimming. Rose picked up the fallen items on the floor, small things like rings and pills, restoring them best as she could to their places. She retrieved the drinking glasses, bringing them into the kitchen. The Doctor sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper and absently drinking the shotglass of milk.

It was one day to Amelia and Rory's wedding, and Rose and the Doctor had been acting as the little town's house sprites, passing the time by fixing broken appliances, gutters, roofs, some light cleaning and gardening—always invisible to Leadworth's residents, but their work having a large impact. They'd "adopted" Mrs. Robbins after finding out she'd had a troublesome lodger in her house, "haunting" the lout until he'd moved, and then they'd moved in, dutifully paying rent every week in the form of an envelope of cash on the table, and in housechores. Since Mrs. Robbins never managed to catch sight of them, she had gotten into the habit of calling them "fairies", as did some of the other old residents whom they'd been helping out. Mrs. Robbins' house had the added benefit of overlooking Amelia Pond's.

Rose needed to pass the Doctor as she brought the glasses to the sink for a wash, and was accosted in the tiny kitchen by the Doctor tipping his head back to block her way.

"Yeah?" said Rose.

"Rory's having that stag party later tonight," said the Doctor.

Rose chuckled. "And...?"

"It's not your kind of thing, so I thought I should trail him. There a good chance of the Doctor taking both of them—Rory _and_ Amelia-before the wedding."

"Hmm."

The Doctor leaned up, and Rose managed to get past him to wash the glasses in the sink.

"I suppose you have a point there. In which case, what is the plan? Do either of us follow into the TARDIS? Or just... what, pin a message to the TARDIS door? The destruction isn't till tomorrow, but it's _our_ tomorrow, and likely not the _Doctor's_ tomorrow what with the timey-wimey travel he's likely going to do. How do we know when's a good time to insert ourselves?"

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair, thinking. "We could bug the TARDIS."

"Wouldn't the security programs find it?"

"Not if _I _set it. It's _my _ship too!"

Rose opened her mouth to correct him, then thought better of it. "I suppose in a manner of speaking," she said finally. "Do we have a device for that?"

"If you give me your phone, we do."

Rose finished washing the glasses, and dried them and her hands on a towel. "'Please'?" she said, her mouth crooked in a smile.

"Please," said the Doctor, as Rose came up beside his chair and held the phone above him and just out of his reach. As he looked up, she surprised him with a snog, and he returned the surprise in kind by cupping her face in his hands and holding the kiss. It felt bittersweet when they both broke for air.

"Last day on earth tomorrow. Could be," said Rose in answer to the Doctor's questioning look. She smiled and was about to draw away, when the Doctor pulled her in for another kiss.

"We're still alive right now," said the Doctor, with something in his voice. Rose found herself sucking in a breath as her heart suddenly leapt to a quicker tempo. He gave her an incorrigible smile like he _knew_ exactly what he was doing, then slowly released her. "'Please'?" he said, using exactly her tone from just minutes before, and Rose resisted the urge to smack him.

"Fairies? My darlings, are you there?" came Mrs Robbins' voice from the sitting room. "I dropped my morning pills again."

"Oi, even the fair folk need a break sometimes, Mrs Robbins," said the Doctor, knowing full well the old lady couldn't hear him.

Rose snorted and laughed.

* * *

The Doctor tried to remember if he'd been to any stag parties before this one, but he was drawing a blank, or just realising that he was merely remembering scenes from earth movies. The pub was crowded and loud, and it was getting hard to find a place where he wasn't jostled or walked right through by the regular drinkers or Rory's friends, easily identifiable with their matching red jumpers bearing the photo of the Amy and Rory. He tried to manage the discomfort, keeping his eyes trained on Rory Williams, who looked like the only man in the pub who might have been as uncomfortable as he was. In fact, as the Doctor watched, the young man frequently fingered his phone, or stared at it, as if hoping for a phone call he could use as an excuse to take him away from here. The Doctor guessed that he was dialling for Amy as he finally gave in and made the call himself. Not that it mattered, the pub was just too loud for him to hear anything Rory Williams was saying.

The noise reached a crescendo as some activity near the front door of the pub revealed a tacky, multi-tiered paper cake being wheeled in: the stripper had arrived. _Poor girl_, thought the Doctor. She had to be uncomfortable in there. _They need to make stripper wedding cakes bigger on the __inside._

Someone alerted Rory to the cake, who tried to look enthusiastic as the cake was wheeled before him. A cheer started and the appropriately bawdy music was put on. The Doctor's position in the pub gave him a view of Rory's face—which fell as the top of the cake tore open, and revealed a too-masculine, too-_dressed figure who nearly caused the Doctor to swallow his tongue. His stomach twisted and the sound of his single heart beating deafened his ears as silence fell over the crowd. He quickly remembered to use his ring to call an invisibility and mental shield over himself before the other Doctor could see him._

_This is the Doctor now. _The certainty was as real to him as everything else in the pub. And in spite of the shock running through his body he took in the new man's very young-looking form, strange face and strong jaw, his hair—more than his!—bow tie, and a ridiculous fuddy-duddy suit. The anachronism in the clothing alone seemed to clearly identify him. And the new (or old?) Doctor's tongue appeared faster than his brain, to judge from the rather inappropriate words coming out of his mouth about the stripper's medical condition, and Amy's attempted kiss with him. The Doctor never thought he'd ever heard a pub so quiet.

_He's here, _thought the Doctor, carefully directing the thought towards Rose, still watching over Pond house.

There was a pause before he heard a reply from Rose. _The two Doctors at a stag party? Why am I not surprised? _He could practically hear her rolling her eyes, but also knew it was covering her excitement.

_Complete party killer though. And he looks different now._

The pause was longer this time. _Does he?_

The part-human Doctor didn't answer. Someone dropped a glass. He took that moment to slip silently out of the pub, attention now focused on finding the TARDIS. Leadworth's main street wasn't too long, and he had only to jog down a distance from the pub before he spotted it in a dark side alley. "Hello old friend," he said breathlessly, slowing as he neared it. The TARDIS's reaction was mixed—excitement, nostalgia and uncertainty all in one. _I know,_ he said to it, pausing when he was just a touch away. He cautiously stayed to the side of it, in case the other Doctor returned, or Amy appeared, whichever came first. He raised a hand nervously, then with the TARDIS' permission, touched its gently vibrating hull.

_I'm here to protect you, _he thought firmly. _And to do that I need to follow and understand what's happening. _He withdraw Rose's phone from his coat pocket, and with a light touch, separated into it into small components, one of which he attached—with a manual screwdriver—to the back of the TARDIS in an unobtrusive spot. _Our little secret._ He gave his old ship a gentle pat when it was over. _I'll see you again, dear friend. _

There was a little silent pulse of acknowledgement from the TARDIS, and the Doctor withdrew. For a moment, he was reluctant to leave, but then approaching footsteps and a heated conversation made him duck into the TARDIS' shadow.

"...This will be better than your stag party, I promise you—"

"Well, it needs to be, since you ruined that."

"Did I? I thought the whole object of the paper cake was surprise. To get what you were expecting isn't much of one."

"Right, because having the object of your fiance's obsession pop out of your stripper cake on the eve of your wedding is _so_ much better..." Rory's voice was thick with sarcasm.

"I..."

"And then to hear him talk about kissing your fiance!"

"Oi, she did tha—"

"I don't care if you're an alien and could probably _phase _me out of existence anytime you like but do you not understand that you've just come at the wrong time..."

"I have an _excellent_ sense of time—"

"Because the _better time_ to have come was _Never Again!"_

The voices and footsteps disappeared into the TARDIS. The Doctor behind the TARDIS unfroze, creeping out of its shadow. "People person, that one," he muttered under his breath. He reached into his pocket again and quickly reassembled the remaining pieces of Rose's handphone, checking its audio and visual display: All was working as it should.

"Later," he whispered to the TARDIS, before he walked away to return to Rose's side.

* * *

The lights in the Pond house showed Amelia upstairs. Rose leaned her head on her hand lazily as she watched from the garden bench. The night air was scented with flowers and a sense of anticipation. She heard footsteps on the grass behind her and smiled as her Doctor walked into view.

"Anything exciting here?" he asked as he sat on the bench beside her.

"No, she just came home from shopping, that's all. Getting ready for bed, I think."

"No hen party?"

Rose shook her head. "Remember how her friend Mels just disappeared? I reckon if Mels was around, there would have been one. How was the stag party?"

A laugh escaped the Doctor despite himself. "Not much of one. Do you want to guess how the other Doctor appeared?"

"The most outrageous thing would be that he jumped out of the stripper cake...?"

"Yes!"

"I was _joking. _Not naked, though?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"Kept his dignity, at least," said Rose.

The Doctor chuckled.

"How was he, then?" Rose tried to make her question sound casual.

The Doctor mulled over his answer. "Different... a bit _wanting_ in the social department."

Rose looked at him, not expecting that answer. "How so?"

"He turned up to tell Rory that Amelia had tried to kiss him..."

"That's not evidence of lack though, is it?"

"...At the guy's stag night, in front of his friends."

Rose nodded sagely. "Ever brilliant sense of timing, that seems to have stayed the same."

"Oi." But the Doctor took Rose's hand in his anyway, rubbing his fingers over her cool knuckles.

Rose smiled. "What else?"

"Bit of a strange face. Younger."

"That's not strange."

"Tall. Suit. Bow tie—" The Doctor rattled off the list.

"Classy."

"Hair." The Doctor waved his hands around in a vaguely head-shaped gesture.

"Ginger?"

"No."

"Tall, socially awkward, and not ginger. Got it," said Rose dryly. "Did you find the TARDIS?"

"Yes."

They became quiet for a moment as the lights in the Pond house were turned off. The Doctor pulled out the remainder of Rose's phone—now the TARDIS tracker—from his pocket, checking its visual display. "Hasn't moved yet," the Doctor whispered in answer to Rose's raised eyebrow.

"But he'll get here next to pick up Amelia, yeah?"

"Well actually, he has her in the TARDIS already." He waved the phone at her. "But yeah. From our point of view, seems he hasn't gotten to her yet."

Rose took a moment to work that out in her head, then nodded. The night was getting colder, and she rubbed her hands together. "No sleep for us tonight, then?"

"We can take turns," said the Doctor, standing up. "Come on. Slumber party on Amelia's couch tonight."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **_No, it wasn't abandoned. I've wanted to tell this story for so long, and when I lately had the chance to return, I wrote for hours at a time, because yes, I did get REALLY close to the part I'd always been aiming for, when they meet the Eleventh (now Thirteenth) Doctor. But my own heart needed to be broken first, in real life (I had a kid, went through separation, moved) and by Doctor Who (I am one of those who get upset by the way Steven Moffat writes women and minorities-I sympathise with both, what can I say?)._

_Plot-wise, we've come to the point in The Pandorica Opens/Big Bang before the TARDIS explodes, and it will move quickly here and in the next chapter because it assumes you know everything going on with the Eleventh around that event: Where history is rewritten without the Doctor, and he goes through a rewind of his experiences with Amelia Pond before making his "final exit" back into the TARDIS through the crack in her bedroom._

**T Minus 5 Minutes (and 42 seconds, and counting)**

The Doctor checked the pockets in his suit for twentieth time, and ran a nervous hand through his hair for the fifteenth. He didn't really have a plan, at least not anything he knew would work. Rose looked resolute, if resigned, as she sat on the grass embankment facing the street on which the TARDIS was scheduled to appear-possibly for the last time. From what the Doctor could tell, the TARDIS was "currently" two thousand years in the past, in the vicinity of Stonehenge, and due to arrive.

"Five minutes" said the Doctor, checking the time on Rose's phone. The coordinates of this point in time and space were by now so familiar to him, a part of him felt this was unreal-it felt too much like a dream to be here. Rose simply gave him a little smile. "The moment we've been waiting for, I suppose," she said casually, but a tremor in her voice betrayed her.

"Rose, remember that whoever's inside may not be the Doctor." It was something they'd already worked out; it made no sense for the timelord to bring the TARDIS to a point of certain destruction. At least, not in any hurry. The Doctor had no idea what would come out of the blue doors. All that his surveillance on the TARDIS could tell him was that it was one life form... at least, when Rose's phone functioned properly.

The wind rose. Rose jumped to her feet, joining his side. The Doctor's heart almost stopped. There was a crackle in the air, one that the Doctor always felt and tasted as the TARDIS was about to land. The pull to his ship was almost more than he could bear, a familiar gravity that threatened to knock him off balance. It pulled him towards an empty spot where he _knew_ the TARDIS would materialize. Glancing over to Rose in order to hold her hand, he was shocked to see her face white and staring in a completely different direction.

"Rose?"

A sharp intake of breath. "I saw... I saw..." Then the expression faded quickly—impossibly quickly—as if it was suddenly forgotten.

The episode seemed of little consequence. The Doctor blinked, as Rose's sudden display of fear was only imagined. There could only be so much happening at once, surely. He swore he could now see the TARDIS' faint outline appearing. But there also seemed to be a grey figure standing at a distance that he had never seen before, and it was definitely not human.

Why did it seem familiar, and yet utterly alien? Yet within seconds again, his attention skipped off the inexplicable other alien like water sliding off a duck, as Jackie Tyler would likely say.

"NO!" Rose shouted. She held one hand up as if to ward off... that grey big-headed alien, wasn't it? The one that was standing there that they had imagined? It wasn't there anymore. The Doctor's head hurt. The TARDIS's blue form was now discernable and becoming opague in the space he had anticipated. But Rose had her back to it, even as she took backward steps towards the TARDIS. As for the TARDIS, the police phonebox now blotted out the sight of everything behind it. It cast a shadow. It was here. It was real. And Rose seemed oblivious to it, even though it was just three feet behind her now. The warding hand she held up was shaking.

It was confounding. Something was the matter, something that she could see, but his thoughts kept sliding off it. The Doctor gave up. He focused on Rose. She now had his full attention, because to his rising alarm, a golden glow now permeated her outline. Her eyes were dazzling amber.

"Ohnono no no, nononono..." Gibberish was falling out of the Doctor's mouth.

"Get them away." Rose's voice was hers yet not hers. "Get them away!" she commanded.

"Who? Get 'who' away?" the Doctor asked helplessly.

"The Silence!" It was a shout.

The door of the TARDIS opened, and the Doctor nearly swallowed his tongue as River Song walked out of it. At the same time, Rose collapsed in his arms. He caught her around her waist, unsure where his attention was needed, but then River seemed not to see them at all standing off one side of the TARDIS—either they were still ghosts, or River was distracted, because he saw her heading straight for Amelia's house. He looked down at Rose. Golden light still danced around her. They had to get into the TARDIS.

It was a rather inelegant entrance and return, as the human Doctor's tenuous hold around Rose's waist only allowed to half-drag, half-carry her limp form inside the ship. He was slightly disoriented by the different look of the control room, though he had to admit it was only because, in this moment, the floor looked like there was more of it to traverse, and it was hard—no place to comfortably lay down a fainting woman. He would have to have a word with his counterpart that that could be a useful feature...

"Doctor!" he shouted, as no one came to his aid. It felt strange to be calling for himself.

The TARDIS console lit up in red lights and alarms. The Doctor thought he understood: the ship didn't want to be here, and it was panicked, and desperate—desperate enough to have used Rose to re-create Bad Wolf, and say something about the Silence, something the Doctor didn't understand. Then he looked at the console, and it barely registered at first that the display screen was cracked, and it struck him as such bad maintenance...

It was cracked in the shape of the smile. The implications were too much for him to grasp; after so much waiting, it had all happened so quickly. The alarms in the TARDIS became blaring. Its destruction had begun.

"Rose," he called, feeling as if his world were breaking apart. And he needed her. "Rose!" He carried her over to the seats, where she flopped onto it. Golden mists of light danced around her body in panicked fashion, scattering and regrouping, jumping and skittering over her skin—a reflection of the TARDIS' energy. She moaned an otherworldy sound, half Rose, half Bad Wolf. The light in TARDIS turned red. It was reaching critical.

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor, for lack of anything else he could offer to his ship, gripping Rose as if they were one in her body and his hold could save them. "I'm sorry, what can I do? Tell me what I can do!"

"Nothing," breathed Rose/the TARDIS. "Time loop. River. Saving. Saving all of you."

As if on cue, River Song strode back into the TARDIS, and the urgency of her actions showed clearly her realisation of the situation. The Doctor watched in a daze as she moved around as if she knew the ship intimately, doing helpful if useless things with the cranks and cables even as the ship started exploding around her. The Doctor then watched her walk to the doors, opening them to nothing but a dark, blank wall. The TARDIS was now nothing but a fancy, burning blue box, in the middle of nowhere, as far as he could tell. River looked back toward the console, towards him and Rose, but not yet seeing them...

And then he was watching her near the console again, doing helpful if useless things with the cranks and cables even as the ship started exploding around her. The Doctor then watched her walk to the doors, opening them to nothing but a dark, blank wall. The TARDIS was now nothing but a fancy, burning blue box, in the middle of nowhere, as far as he could tell. River looked back toward the console, towards him and Rose, but not yet seeing them...

And then he was watching her near the console again, doing helpful if useless things with the cranks and cables even as the ship started exploding around her. The Doctor then watched her walk to the doors, opening them to nothing but a dark, blank wall. The TARDIS was now nothing but a fancy, burning blue box, in the middle of nowhere, as far as he could tell. River looked back toward the console, towards him and Rose, but not yet seeing them...

Time loop.


	20. Chapter 20

**Destruction**

"Time loop. River. Saving. Saving all of you."

A time loop. The Doctor noted it. He was still part time lord, so when a strong sense of _déjà vu _kicked in, he knew they were in the loop. He also knew his time lord mind would keep count of the iterations—but it was a number he didn't care to know, did not want to touch. He breathed and watched, settling into the realisation that as long as the time loop was there, they were alive—Rose was alive, and the TARDIS, just barely. He had no plan—it seemed enough for now knowing it would keep Rose—everyone—alive a bit longer. And honestly, dying in the TARDIS didn't seem like a bad thing; maybe he had always been meant to go down with his ship. He sank down next to Rose as he watched River try to save it—the loop wasn't a long amount of time, because the _déjà vu_ went away suddenly as River approached the door to the TARDIS, and stopped. She spoke, and the Doctor grew aware the other Doctor had arrived.

He sat up, his heart thumping, but there was no need. The pair did not stay—who would? There was a flash of light, and he belatedly recognised the signature of a Vortex manipulator. As quickly as that, he and Rose were completely alone in the TARDIS. A TARDIS currently in destruction. Despair rose in his throat, but he swallowed it as comfortable _déjà vu _enveloped them again. Good old TARDIS. Good old ship. He had missed it. But it was Rose he cradled as he sighed. One of his hands found her cheek under her soft hair and cupped it gently.

"'I'm glad you're here with me, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things'," he murmured, mostly to himself. The ship shook and rattled them, hard enough to toss Doctor and Rose onto the floor, where though he tried to act as a cushion for Rose, the impact was hard, driving the air from his lungs. _Oh, this would suck_, to land so painfully over and over and over... But now he didn't have the breath or thought to complain; his brain rattled in his skull as the TARDIS shook like he had never experienced—a fireball was rising from the depths of the ship. D_éjà vu _disappeared—the ship was dead now, this was the moment. It was a mercy Rose was unconscious—he never wanted _her_ to have this experience. These months of trying to understand and stop the TARDIS' destruction were now ending with themselves destroyed with it—the irony was too much.

The heat and light from the engine of the ship expanded like a supernova. The Doctor thought he could bear it, but he couldn't, screaming as the light claimed him.

* * *

"I said I didn't like repeats!" The voice was petulant, accent just a little higher and more clipped than his own, and it came from up high. Really up high.

The part-human Doctor lying on the floor of the control room, expecting to be winded, but instead his reply came easily. "Pardon?" he inquired in a croak, as he opened his eyes, and saw what he expected: his tall other incarnation standing over him—them!—Rose still unconscious beside him. He sat up quickly, shifting his focus to Rose—she was warm, and she was alive, and the TARDIS looked intact. Different, with that extremely silly see-through floor around the console, but intact. Not exploding. That was a big improvement. He expected some thing had been reversed.

He checked Rose's eyes. No amber light. No golden light dancing on her skin—he sighed in relief. "Rose, come on, wake up." She didn't respond, and the Doctor shot an annoyed glance at the newer, version of him and barked: "Don't just stand there. Get the TARDIS to scan her."

The new Doctor blinked. "You can see me? This isn't a rerun?"

"Do I look like a rerun? Don't answer that," The Doctor snapped as he thought to use his sonic screwdriver—it had to be normal now—he breathed again as he slipped it out of his coat pocket and it turned on without the screaming whine.

"What am I looking for? What's wrong with her?" the new Doctor had finally clued in and stood at the TARDIS console.

"Time Vortex. Huon particles. Bad Wolf. All the above." Two Doctor had to be better than one, the human Doctor thought absently as he scanned Rose's body with his own screwdriver. He was partly rewarded by the sharp intake of breath from the other one. He glanced at his screwdriver. She was clean. Normal. The other Doctor confirmed it. Just probably bloody knackered from the TARDIS' Vortex energy and needed a nap. The Doctor exhaled heavily as the adrenaline left him and he sat on the floor next to Rose's prone body, trying to push out the memory of the both of them dying in the TARDIS' fiery explosion... he let his head sink into his hands.

"You're really here," he heard the other Doctor breathe incredulously. "Can I...?" He felt a little poke on his shoulder with a finger, and chose to ignore it. "How did you get here?"

"The cracks."

"_OH! Ohhhh..._ in Pete's World."

"How did you get so daft?" He honestly hadn't meant to blurt it out, but now that they were here, this anger rose in him. Here he was then, the _real _time lord, the original—the one who had let Rose go, the one she was still in love with, and the human one couldn't help it. The other Doctor didn't deserve her. _He_ did.

The original yet new Doctor was quiet. There was shuffling as he lowered himself to the floor next to them. The part-human Doctor looked up and swallowed his jealousy as he saw the look on the other guy's face, gazing upon Rose as he sat down next to Rose and reached tremulously for her hand. But he didn't say a word as the new Doctor clasped Rose's left hand briefly, then released it.

"I fixed them, you know," the new Doctor offered slowly, but with an apologetic note. "The cracks. It's er, it's... the world's going to be a bit different now, rewritten because I'm not in it. We're not in it. We can't be, actually. But the TARDIS will preserve us in here." He paused. "There was this thing. You know about the cracks. But there was this other... thing. A t-t-tr..." he hesitated, his prominent jawline shuddering a bit. "A trap." He tripped on the word. "For me."

Oh, _daft indeed. _

The new Doctor continued. "All our enemies—and I really do mean all of them, had made this box, meant as a prison for me. I couldn't escape from it, and I couldn't die in it, and things happened while I was in it..."

"How long were you in it?"

"About twenty minutes." The new Doctor paused, then fluttered his hands. "Give or take. Rory got me out."

The human Doctor sighed and covered his face with his hands again. "Just explain the bit about fixing the cracks."

"Right. They're fixed. With the help of that box I mentioned. The prison. Called the Pandorica. It was built with the technology to, _ah_, restore things. That's now what's sealing the cracks. Boom! Big bang, Pandorica technology reaches all the places the TARDIS ever was, and no more cracks."

"Right..."

"But it had to be done from the outside. Outside of the universe, I mean. With me in the TARDIS and Pandorica. I thought it meant an eternity alone after that. Just me and my memories." A little relieved giggle slipped out of the new Doctor. "I didn't expect you. Me, myself," he pointed at the metacrisis Doctor, "... and Rose." He breathed her name like a prayer. "It's amazing how that worked out."

The human Doctor frowned, as a part of his mind started working out the ways to get back. "We had a life to get back to—"

"Oh yes, I saw..." The new Doctor sputtered and paused, then collected himself. "I saw your... rings."

Silence settled around the three of them, with only the quiet hum of the TARDIS for background. Anger seeped out from the human Doctor. The last of it when the new Doctor asked quietly, "How was the wedding?"

The human Doctor huffed with a smile he couldn't help. "Which one? We had three." He elaborated as the other Doctor raised his brow: "We did a Gallifreyan version. Then we did a small human one in a chapel at Land's End while on a Torchwood assignment. And then when Jackie found out..._Hor, _she was livid, and we had to do the third for show. The works." He gestured in the air. "Church. Guests. Flowers. Big poofy dress—on Jackie, actually. Rose looked... nice." Simple. Radiant. He smiled at the memory. "Well, she can tell you about it herself, if she wants to when she wakes up."

There was another moment of silence.

"Was she ever angry at me? For... leaving?"

"No, not that I know. That's why we're here." The human Doctor gave a hard glare to the other. "I was, though." He left it at that. "Look, I don't mind the chat, but right now, I'd like to put her somewhere more comfortable." He quirked his chin towards Rose.

The full-bloooded timelord gaped like a landed fish, for a moment. "Yes, well...there's always her old room. Haven't touched it."

The Doctor nodded, and carefully arranged Rose's limbs so that he could pick her up and carry her there. Somehow, Rose was lighter in his arms when he had the new Doctor watching him in envy. And he definitely didn't mind _that._


	21. Chapter 21

**Reconstruction**

Rose thought she was in a dream. The room looked alien at first, alien yet painfully familiar, and her mind grasped at explanations for how she could be back in her room on the TARDIS. She sat up quickly, wincing as not all the blood caught up with her at once, staring at the simple, cosy room with a sunlit window, pink walls, and a cheery yellow bedspread around her. She saw old clothes on a rack against the wall opposite, clothes she hadn't seen or worn for years. Jewelry on a simple dresser with a mirror she'd used to put on her make-up. She'd been so young then, always laying it thick... and still she gaped at everything with incomprehension. Surely everything she'd gone through the last decade had really happened? She raised one of her hands and looked at it—no nail polish, and she had more lines on her palm. The clothes she wore were... grown up. There was a Torchwood ID in her jacket pocket, a weapon in the other, a dimension jumper on her chest. Alright then.

She lay back on the bed as a knock came on the door. Her heart sped up a little. "Who...?" she asked.

"Me," was the simple answer. The voice she found familiar.

Rose relaxed and smiled. "Come in," she said. She could not look upon his face soon enough, and beamed as her Doctor entered with a thermos flask and a bowl of biscuits in the crook of one arm. She patted the bed beside her, and helped herself to a tea biscuit as soon as it was within reach. She was famished.

"We're here," she said, as soon as she had finished chewing and swallowing the biscuit in one go.

"Yep," said her Doctor, sitting his slim pin-striped form beside her.

"It's intact." She picked up another biscuit, scarfed that down too.

"Yep," said the Doctor, referring to the TARDIS.

"We're safe?"

"Yes," said the Doctor, a little laugh escaping him as she devoured a third biscuit and then reached for the flask. "You can slow down, you know. We have time."

That was music to her ears. Her eyes watered unexpectedly. She'd missed this life, of living in the TARDIS with the Doctor. And yet, there was a niggling feeling that this wouldn't last. Something important was different: There were two Doctors. She blinked her tears away, even as she knew the Doctor had seen them. "And... he...?"

"Also safe. And fine. Waiting for you. When you're ready." His voice was deliberately light.

She opened the flask slowly, pouring the hot tea out into the cup. She drank a sip before taking a deep breath. "What happened? What I remember last was the sound of the TARDIS and the golden haze."

"The TARDIS saying hello to you. In exactly the way I hoped wouldn't happen. She spoke through you..."

"Yes, I let her." Rose raised her chin petulantly. "I love this ship too." She patted the bed as she said it, and the "sunlight" in the room brightened for a moment. She saw the Doctor inhale sharply.

"But that comes with a risk to you," he said, with a hard edge to his voice. Then he sighed. "But now you're fine. The ship was desperate, too. For a while, it used you to talk to me. The TARDIS _was_ destroyed, Rose. Then it was restored. Time was...rewritten. You remember the timelines we saw, when we were back home—in Pete's World, I mean? One of them where the stars were there, the cracks were gone, but the Doctor was also gone? That's what's in place now. I'm guessing the other two have collapsed and are closed to us. We're between worlds. In the Void. In the TARDIS, the safest place we could be for here and now. I can't say for sure what's happened in Pete's World, Rose." His voice was careful. "But for now the TARDIS holds the potentials needed to keep us here and safe."

Rose mulled over this, then looked at him. She reached one hand for his, and with his permission saw a little into his recent memory, and his conversation with the new Doctor. She winced as she saw the explosion of the TARDIS, then frowned at the meeting with the new Doctor. "Huh," was all she could think of to say. So much sadness and recent pain in his brown eyes was now explained, as was the dream he'd had before they traveled between the worlds. She finished her cup of tea, and as the Doctor watched, set the tea and biscuits safely on the bedside table before lying back again on her old pillow.

"I'd like to stay here a while," she confessed finally.

"In the TARDIS? Might as well—"

"In this room. He can wait, right?" She knew that would surprise him, and pulled him down beside her. He cooperated easily, lying next to her, and a wistful laugh escaped her throat. She felt the Doctor prod her gently for an explanation.

"I spent so much time here, in this room, in this bed, thinking of you, in the old days," Rose said at last. "Oh, how I dreamed of... so many scenarios to make things happen... between us, none of which happened, of course. It drove a girl crazy. You never did anything more than knock on my door whenever it was off for the next place." She laughed at herself.

"Oi, I'm not... I was never some space-time... escort, you know. I wasn't Jack."

She laughed even more. "Oh, and how Jack tried!" She felt the Doctor's body tense at her words.

"Did he ever...?"

"Oh no. That act of his. Under it he was always, always respectful. And afraid of you. _That_ also drove me crazy."

The Doctor spoke slowly. "I was protecting you."

She turned on her side to look at him. "I was young. Really young, wasn't I? And in love. And unsure. And the _both_ of you kept trying to protect me, when I didn't want to be protected." She frowned. "You were honourable, I guess."

"'Honourable'," the Doctor echoed. He seemed short on words. Perhaps the conversation was awkward for him, even as Rose couldn't resist reminiscing and looking at him. He looked younger in the TARDIS sunlight, as if all the past years they'd been separated had been erased. She had been so young then, and happy, with him by her side and the entire universe open to her. Now the entire universe was closed to her, and she couldn't care less as long as he was here.

But now her arm was cramped lying on one side, and she sat up. She massaged her arm a little, smiling as the Doctor sat up next to her and helped until the feeling came back. The tea biscuits were looking again, and she reached around the Doctor's body for them. He moved out of her way a little, but also breathed against her ear as he finally spoke.

"Rose, it took me a lot of effort sometimes to be 'honourable'. Your age... and our differences... held me back, too."

Rose beamed at his confession. It was nice to hear. "Good to know," she said brightly, before popping another biscuit into her mouth.

"Of course I also had other things happening..."

"Uffh Fffuh," said Rose, mouth full.

"And I was in denial."

"Mmmff."

"And could you please bloody finish your tea so that I can forget all about 'honourable' and ravish you now?"

Rose choked on her food and her laughter. She dutifully did so, washing everything down with more tea as the Doctor watched her impatiently. She fumbled putting the flask back on the bedside table, spilling some tea on herself and the bed, but was happy for it as the Doctor licked it off her before capturing her mouth with his. His kisses were firm, and they tasted sweet tea between them as she let him plumb her mouth. She melted beneath him; his body pushing her backwards till she lay back on the bedspread, soft and yielding and urging him on to do exactly as he pleased. It was a heady sensation, everything considered, the Doctor thought as he ground his hips against hers. Perhaps he'd have been more enthusiastic returning to the TARDIS if he'd known it'd always had the possibility of them rutting in it like this, other Doctor be damned. Rose was his, and this sentiment was coming out in animal ways that shocked himself as he grabbed hungrily at her flesh beneath her clothes and bit at her lip.

Rose's choppy breathing, soft moans and writhing beneath him only egged him on. The clothes that still confined them from each other were both frustrating and delicious—his erection strained against her, and every wiggle of her hips against it made him catch his breath. He broke from the kiss momentarily to help Rose out of her jacket and shirt. He made short work of her bra, catching one of her nipples in his teeth, teasing it with his tongue as it stood at attention, slowly closing his jaw upon it until Rose groaned deeply, body surging up under his. He stroked a hand down her stomach, undoing her pants as he reached them, slipping his hand down her mound, still trapped under her panties. His fingers found the place between her legs, the damp spot on her flimsy underwear, and stroked teasingly through the cloth the growing bud that was her clitoris. Her hips bucked desperately. "Please..." Rose keened.

"Please what?" The Doctor spoke through gritted teeth still clamped into Rose's darkening nipple, a part of him afraid of hurting her, but forgetting that part entirely her body bucked in a way he knew betrayed her frustrated desire.

"Please... You. Inside me," panted Rose eloquently. She grabbed his hand, roughly pushed it down her panties and fairly clamped his fingers between her legs. The Doctor wiggled his fingers, feeling the silken-soft wetness of her mound, her flesh there plump and slippery with excitement. She gasped as he stroked her clit, and he had to release her nipple from his teeth as he found himself unable to hold back either. He growled with his own frustration, breaking contact with her so he could pull off her remaining clothes, and his own as well. He couldn't help noticing—first time as it was that they were doing this in the TARDIS, that the "sunlight" from the room "window" had dimmed to a rather romantic level: Just enough to reveal curves and smooth skin, and also enough to create rather enticing shadows where flesh dipped into seductive valleys. He blinked for a moment at this clever gift from the ship.

"Why didn't we ever do this before?" he asked Rose softly. She looked at him as she reached for him and drew his hips down on hers.

"We've gone over this." They both sighed as their bodies finally met, bare skin on skin, and Rose bit his earlobe. "You were in denial. And you thought I was young, and something about differences..." She wiggled her hips until he could feel the tip of his member resting enticingly just at her entrance. They shivered, almost in unison. The Doctor caught both her hands in his, letting all his weight rest on Rose for a moment, rewarded as she gasped and moaned against him. He raised her hands above her head until they both touched the foot board of the brass bed frame (they were reversed on the bed)—some ornate curling brass design the Rose had chosen with the TARDIS, and the Doctor couldn't help appreciating now. The cool metal gave contrast and Rose curled her fingers around a bar as the Doctor guided her to do, shivering again as he sent her an image of just how hard he wanted to drive into her, and she was letting him. He wanted to reach the core of her, to go so deep, so deep and thoroughly she would never, ever forget this—how hard she had wished for this and gotten it, finally.

Sure that her hands were secured around the bed frame, the Doctor grasped Rose's legs, raising them only a little at first so he could ease his cock into her, slowly pushing into her tightness. He bit back a groan at the sensation. Then he slowly raised one of her thighs back till her knee was near her shoulder, pushing himself even deeper till he was in to the hilt, his tip just grazing her cervix, and nearly swooning at the feel of Rose reflexively and exquisitely tightening and flexing her muscles around his entire length. He gasped as he slowly rocked his hips experimentally, then harder and deeper, each penetration driving Rose's exhalation.

"Keep going," Rose gasped as he worried about her. He reached for her through the psychic link they shared through the wedding bands, faced a moment of delicious disorientation as he could feel what she felt, and she him—his thickness filling her fully, so deep physically, so entwined in spirit that their bodies thrummed with each other. He rocked his hips again, drawing moans from both as they found their rhythm, winding up the building urgency for release as hard flesh plunged into her tight core, and his fingers found her clit once again, and rubbed the engorged bud, slick with her juices. A little cry emerged from her as her entire body tightened then convulsed as she came. The Doctor didn't stop, slowing only a little as tremors rocked Rose's body while he continued to drive into her, friction and her heightened sensitivity after orgasm pulling helpless animal cries from her throat. But she didn't want him to stop, and he doubted he could either—she felt so good under him, he could barely control his hips as they moved instinctively, seeking his own release. He let go of her thigh so that she could wrap her legs around him. Her hands, still hanging on to the frame, strained as her body took his rough pounding now, his moment coming close and ever closer, and he groaned through gritted teeth as one of her shudders sent him over the edge—he came, and momentarily lost himself as he spilled himself into her. As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, he found himself again, limp and shivering upon Rose's body as she gently wrapped him in her arms.

Maybe it wasn't so bad an idea being a space-time escort. "Your fantasies fulfilled" was a good slogan, wasn't it?

Rose chuckled as if she could hear his thought. She probably could, after that.

"A man could get his feelings hurt like that," the Doctor said as he raised his head to look at her.

"Well, as your manager, I don't know where you'll find your market, outside of myself." _Oh yes,_ she'd heard him.

"Wellllll, you're right. And I'm not sure how often I could do that again," the Doctor said thoughtfully, then paused. His limbs felt like jelly, and he wasn't sure if it had just been that good a shag, or that his recovery after such exercise had gotten worse. "I'm getting old," he said, to the deepening twilight in the room.

Rose stirred under him. Still buried in her, the motion sweetly thrilled their still-tender parts. "But I am too..."

"Heh," he said skeptically. The Doctor couldn't help himself. She seemed only to be getting more beautiful, instead of ageing. He'd seen the way some of the new Torchwood recruits looked at Rose. It was the same look he'd seen on the new Doctor's face, even as it was combined with old longing.

Rose touched his face, guiding his mouth to hers for a kiss. "I made a promise," she reminded him.

The Doctor nodded, content with that for now. Rose took a deep breath, and reluctantly the Doctor rolled off her to give her room as she stretched languorously. He felt tired, and was grateful as Rose got up and thoughtfully placed her pillow under his head as he lay back. She reached for an old bathrobe still draped over a bed post, slipping that on, then padding over to the chest of drawers and finding a light Venusian quilt that she lay over them both as she returned to curl up next to him.

"Sleep if you need to," she whispered, another one of her reminders that he often needed. The Doctor nodded, yawning, only registered slight surprise as Rose started speaking to the ship.

"TARDIS, view of the control room, please," she said politely, and the "window" changed its view as directed.

"Did you do this often?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"Oh yes," Rose said, grinning.

The Doctor could only sigh, forcing away thoughts of his own ship betraying his old self, relaxing his form as he wrapped his arms around Rose, nestling his face into her hair and fuzzy pink bathrobe. He was happy, sated and tired, and he let himself doze even as Rose watched the other Doctor pace the control room on the window's screen display.

Much was different, Rose thought, taking in the view of the control room from somewhere on the ceiling. The space was larger...colder. Harder. More steel and glass. The console and the new Doctor looked like anachronisms in the space; the console with its old bronze parts and bell, the new Doctor in suspenders and...was that really a bow-tie? How odd. And that hair. More hair. Tall. In the hair, face and in the body. Face younger but stranger, with an almost oversized forehead and jaw. And he looked like he was sighing. A lot. The "work" he was doing on the console was just fiddling, she knew. Once in a while he sat on the control seat but quickly stood up again, hands fluttering before he caught them in each other and rubbed them just in front of his chest, like he didn't know what to do with his body.

It was intriguing.

"Display off," Rose said softly, and the TARDIS obliged, the window blinking and returning to being a source of dim, violet light, as if it was night outside. Rose lay silently a moment, feeling the comfortable weight of her Doctor's arm around her. His chest expanding rhythmically with his breath as he gave every sign of being asleep. She moved a shoulder experimentally, and the Doctor didn't respond.

She considered whether he had wanted to be around when she met the new Doctor. Well, it seemed better this way—less awkward? Her Doctor had no reason to mistrust her anyway. And that made her mind up. She carefully wormed out from under his arm, then placed it back on the bed, tucking it under the quilt. She moved up from the bed, picking their clothing off the floor, then impulsively abandoning them in a pile on a chair as she looked at her old clothes, curious what she still fit into. It was the offworld clothing she'd missed, with their exotic material, and she chose one of these formfitting blouses over an old pair of comfortable jeans, elated when both fit, albeit more snugly. A quick hand through her hair and some lipstick seemed in order before she finally approved herself in the full-length mirror, then quickly stepped outside the room before she lost her nerve. Despite the changed desktop theme in the TARDIS, it was easy enough to find the control room.

Her insides turned into a maelstrom as the new Doctor walked into her view from behind the console. He'd heard her deliberately loud footsteps.

"Hello," he said in a different voice. The smile on his face looked so pained—his eyes were sad.

She took a breath but couldn't move or find the words. Just looked at him, taking him in with her own eyes, conscious that he stared at her as well. His face was younger, yes—but the eyes were older.

"You found your old clothes," he said wonderingly. "And you look the same." His stare verged on making her uncomfortable.

"A-and you look different," she said at last, lamely, conscious of the shiver in her voice. She watched him as he twitched, as if he wanted to close the distance and hug her, but held back. And she didn't know why she held back either. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words.

Rose forced herself to move, and it was like her limbs had become molasses. She kept her eyes on his face as she walked until they were three, maybe two feet apart. Then she stopped, and they both kept staring as if at a mirage.

"Did you come back for me?" The new Doctor asked, words pushed out in one nervous breath, before he dropped his gaze to the floor between them and raised it again for a moment, as if regretting the question.

Rose reached for the words. "'Does it need saying?'" she asked gently, echoing the last words she'd heard from his previous incarnation. When he shook his head in disbelief, she added casually, "Well, the worlds needed saving too."

He took a step back from her, something that broke her heart a little. His gaze slid to the console just as one of his hands reached and danced uncertainly over the controls. His fingers were long, slender. Jittery.

"I... I made a mess of things."

She merely nodded and stepped towards him again. And he retreated. "You also fixed them," she offered.

He shook his head, denying the credit. "Friends," he said.

"Where are they now?"

"In the universe and timeline without me. I... It was the only way."

"You made a sacrifice." She took another step towards him.

He stepped back. "Only room for one... in the Pandorica I mean. It was the, er..."

"Prison. Built for you. And that's fixed the cracks in the universe, forming a timeline without you where history has been completely rewritten." Another step forward.

Another step back. "I see he explained."

"We share information quickly," Rose said, and he understood somehow that this was not through the usual means. She stepped forward again, and he stepped back. They were slowly circling the TARDIS console.

"Doctor," she said, pain and puzzlement in her voice, looking right into his eyes. He couldn't hold her gaze.

"You can't," he said, backing away, widening the distance between them.

"Can't what?"

"Can't be here. This...this was intended for me alone!"

"I'm sorry I ruined it," said Rose with gentle sarcasm. She took another step forward as the other only stared at her in incredulity. "You were going to erase us...no, you _did_. You _erased _our history," Rose continued, her voice laced with hurt incomprehension. "You and everyone who'd ever cared about you, everyone you'd ever met." She was breathless. She spoke like the dam had broken. "What possessed you? _Oh I know._ You would say it was _necessary_—" She'd taken the words right out of his mouth, if the look on his face was anything to judge by. "Did it all mean nothing? How could it happen where _everything_ ever created or saved by you had to be _erased_?" She advanced again, and this time backed him until he landed—rather clumsily—in the seats by the console.

"_Rose,"_ he finally said her name, and his voice was pained. How did he look so young, so tall and so... inept all at the same time? "Rose, I really had no choice. I let it get... I didn't understand it, still don't understand how the cracks started, how the TARDIS came to be destroyed. And there really was just one thing to do, which was what I did, and I did it _because_ I had no choice. Everything I ever did that ever mattered...I thought I alone would have the memories. I _alone_. _Rose_, you have no idea. I would do it all again... and I _would _do it all again if I knew I wouldn't be alone, and that you—" His eyes darted down from her eyes to her body, now standing over him and so close, "that you would be here. But why..._why_, Rose, did you have to come back with _him?"_

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Doctor," she said, her face darkening. "You didn't exactly give me a choice with that either." She looked down, noticing the space between them, how it had narrowed to just a few inches, and seemed to consider them. She folded her arms and gazed at her ring on her finger. "I made the best of it as I could. And it wasn't a bad life. Tell me—" She raised her gaze and fixed it upon him coldly, "Where is it now?"

The Doctor closed his eyes, as if he couldn't bear her presence, despite all he'd just said.

"Gone," he breathed.

Rose's breathing became rough. He opened his eyes and saw her staring into space, disbelief written on her features. Her own Doctor had hinted at this, but to hear it now with certainty from this Doctor made it real. It's like her own world had just been destroyed with just one word.

She stepped away from him as he tried to stand up as if to comfort her. They never touched. And now that pained him.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry. There _is_ a possibility..."

She looked at him wordlessly, eyes wide. She seemed so young and old at the same time.

"There is a possibility that everything we knew can be restored if... if someone in the rewritten universe remembers me."

She thought over this as she gazed into nothingness. This really was a quandary she'd never expected, and now she didn't know how she felt. _Helpless_, definitely, but everything else was a blur. And now he irritated her, looking at her, begging forgiveness with his eyes. Even if she'd never been one who would have refused him anything, this finally seemed like too much.

"Could I have a moment alone to think, please?" Rose asked. Her voice sounded tired and hard to herself, and she didn't care for once.

"Of course. Yes." He fumbled to his feet, and did the fluttery-clasping thing with his hands. "Yes. Alright." He left slowly at first, then more quickly when she pointedly ignored him.

She was trapped in an empty eternity with two people she loved, and it looked like she was already angry with one.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: _Now that I'm writing about two Doctors, and that it doesn't feel quite right to call the Eleventh Doctor Eleven, please note I'll reserve "timelord" for him, while the part-human, part-timelord duplicate has become the human Doctor or Rose's Doctor, especially since it works from the full-blooded timelord's POV._

* * *

He was a comfort eater, not that he wanted to admit it. He gazed at the boxes of frozen fish sticks in the TARDIS' freezer, but realised the choke in his throat would really hamper efforts at ingestion. So the reunion in Rose had gone... badly, not that he'd had any right to hope for better. That she was even here was almost nothing short of miraculous. He'd forgotten, perhaps never really realised, what she was fully capable of. And with the other, part-human Doctor by her side, they were almost invincible, unbeatable. And he felt as if he'd let them both down. They were caught here in the TARDIS with him. The only other alternative for them, if they had remained in Pete's World, was complete erasure.

They had saved themselves, by reaching the TARDIS somehow. And he didn't doubt they would have saved both the universes too, if there had been a way.

The timelord sighed. His breath fogged the freezer air in front of him. The efficiency check on the freezer beeped at him, a little irate reminder that he had kept it open too long. Everyone and everything was mad at him. He mumbled an apology and took a step back, letting the freezer door shut. Maybe he could manage a drink. He looked at the stove, noticing someone had recently made tea. Despite his mood, it made him smile. He wasn't alone. He was on the TARDIS with two people who were mad at him, but he loved them and he wasn't alone.

He lifted the kettle and noted that it had water in it just enough for a one mug. The water in it had been cooling though, so he topped it up with more water and set it to boil again. It took an eternity. He realised he hadn't really known how he had planned the pass the time, only thinking he would cope somehow. And surely it would be easier with company. Unless everyone wound up staying mad at him, that maybe shortening that time would be welcome. Perhaps the TARDIS would be in better hands with the metacrisis Doctor and Rose. He hoped they liked fish sticks.

He was into the second cup of tea when the other Doctor stumbled in, a thermos and empty ceramic bowl in hand.

"Oh, hullo," said the part-human Doctor, as he placed his items on the counter. His hair was disheveled, and it didn't appear that he cared. He did look older, now that the full-blooded timelord could take a better view of him in the bright kitchen light. His movements were still the same though, smooth and showman-like as he washed the flask and bowl, then dried and put them away. Then he turned and fixed _him_ with an appraising stare. "Well, what do you think then?"

The fully timelord Doctor nearly choked on his tea. "What do you mean?"

The metacrisis Doctor looked slightly irritated. "You've been staring. I know I look different," he said this with a shrug. "So either you can be honest with your opinion, if you want to spit it out, or you can also tell me what you think of Rose, appearance-wise. You probably had your meeting." He cocked his head toward the control room. "I can guess how that went. But did anything interesting strike you about her?"

The original Doctor worked his jaw, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, recalling how she really had looked no different from the time he'd last seen her. In fact, in her _old clothes, _she looked no different from the days she had traveled with his last incarnation. And it hadn't struck him at the time because he'd been distracted by how she _smelled _different, with the human Doctor's scent all over her, and the maddening implications of _that_.

The other Doctor was now narrowing his eyes at him dangerously.

"You want me to notice she hasn't aged, is that it?" The timelord frowned. "If true, what does that mean? You've been with her longer than I have, now." He hoped the jealousy didn't show in his voice.

The other Doctor sighed, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. He looked like he was settling in for a long conversation, but staying on his feet so that he could pace. "I've seen her age," said the part-human Doctor. "I've also seen, twice now, her age erased. In our world, she works... hard. We're both busy. And granted, she's now in the prime of life, but... put her in the same room with Vortex energy, or near an exploding TARDIS, and her physical clock seems to turn back."

"But the physical scans showed nothing."

"We need to scan her again. Look for something different this time. It's something the TARDIS can help me with. It's just a suspicion, and if I'm wrong, that's fine—Rose is human..."

"Of course she's human!"

The other Doctor didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The full-blooded timelord slowed, realising once again than his mouth was faster than his head, and that this vein of inquiry was worth pursuing.

"Our worlds are gone, aren't they?" the human Doctor asked, changing the subject. "You've made us lose them, twice over. That's why she's mad. And I should be too, if I had the energy for it."

The timelord ground his teeth sullenly. "There was nothing else I could do," he said finally. "There's a chance we'll have access to both universes again, as long as someone remembers me."

The human Doctor considered it. "Someone should at least remember the stripper cake..."

"Ha! You were there?"

The look on the human Doctor's face told him everything, and the time lord couldn't help grinning in glee. "Rory's stag party...that was fun! Except right now, we're the only ones who remember. And on the wrong side of the cracks." He sobered a little.

"Just as Rose and I are the only ones to remember _our_ lives," said the human Doctor pointed out.

"You could tell me about it." But he received only an irate sidelong glance for his eagerness.

"I am going to leave that to Rose. _She_ came here for you. I didn't."

"Did she really?" That seemed impossible even though Rose had strongly implied it, yet here it was from his human counterpart, and there was a flutter in the timelord's hearts he didn't want to admit.

"Did I stutter?" The human Doctor sounded positively annoyed.

Silence returned, and this afforded the full time lord an opportunity consider, once again, just how much cause both the human Doctor and Rose had to be mad at him. It was not an enjoyable line of thought.

"So you both... were happy?" It was a hard question to ask. He didn't even know the answer he wanted to hear. There was so much he was realising that he didn't know, and hadn't wanted to think about for a while. For a very long while.

"Yes, I think." The other Doctor stared up at the ceiling as if he hadn't seen it before. "I did my best. But any reminders—like the cracks—you could always see _her_ wondering. Like about how the people she used to know, the world she used to know, were doing. And the cracks..._wellll,_ they were not very reassuring. The weight of _two_ worlds was on her shoulders, you should realise. And not for the first time. There are not many people you could say that about."

The bugger really had a way of jabbing into his sore spots. Rose had been one of the hardest people he had ever had to leave behind, but what would have been the alternative? This? Would it have been possible for them to share?

"When did this regeneration happen then?" The human Doctor's question broke him out of his reverie, and was pointing his chin toward his body.

"This?" The time lord preened and couldn't help posing. "Year ago."

The human Doctor continued his gaze, insolently without offering a comment, his arms still folded. The full blooded time lord found himself deflating, something that was happening a lot lately. He remembered his tea in front of him, but lifted the cup from the table and found it already cold.

"You won't mind if I don't ask about the details," said the human Doctor matter-of-factly. "I don't think it's a story I want to hear."

"It's not a story I want to go over, either," said the timelord, wincing as he put his tea cup down. So the two of them still had _that_ in common. Funny how out in the worlds, their pasts were erased now, anyway. The irony was a bit heavyhanded, the Doctor couldn't help thinking. "And that world's gone for us right now. You saved yourselves by finding and entering the TARDIS, I'm sure you know that."

"That was _not_ quite our intention, but yes."

"How did you get here? Through the cracks, I get that, but how?"

"Dimension Cannon. Version two, to be specific. The first one was sacrificed to close one of the cracks," the human Doctor said it casually, brushing invisible fluff from his jacket, but there was pride hidden in his voice, and the timelord did have to admit that it was quite the feat, having an idea of what it took.

"And _she_ was involved with that?"

The human Doctor tightened his jaw and nodded. "And Vortex energy. I swear Bad Wolf returned for a moment there, but too quick for me to be sure. And just now, when the TARDIS was on its way to..." He finished his sentence by letting his hands fly apart. "That, I definitely saw."

"I _told_ you, I let her do that." Rose's voice cut in. The two Doctors looked at her as she stood at the doorway. Her face lit up as she looked at the human Doctor, and his was the same with her.

"And no one tangles with Vortex energy without consequences," the human Doctor said.

"I feel fine."

"—Even 'good' ones, depending on one's point of view," finished the human Doctor.

Rose cocked her head. "Were you worried? You never said anything."

"I don't get to play Mother Hen often around you, do I? You don't let me."

A smile danced on Rose's lips as she gazed at her Doctor, and the intense look between them both made the full-blooded timelord feel rather left out.

"What do I need to do then, to stop you worrying?" Rose asked.

"_Both_ of us worry," interjected the timelord.

"Alright," amended Rose. "To stop _both_ of you worrying." She looked at him now, and there was a small smile in her eyes. "I suppose a girl wouldn't mind _both_ of you playing Doctor with her..."

"_Rose!"_ the other Doctor was scolding, while the full blooded one could only gape in shocked bewilderment.

"...but I'm not Jack," finished Rose with a laugh, that wouldn't stop as she looked at the new Doctor's face. Even as she wandered over to the human Doctor's side, new laughter burst forth. He only give her a pointed look, which she only returned after she got her mirth under control. Changing emotions flittered over both their faces, even though no words were exchanged.

The time lord frowned. "Are you two..." The other Doctor and Rose both turned towards him as one, and he thought his question was answered. But his words hung in the air anyway, and he gestured with his hands, holding and waving two facing fingers in the air, "talking without talking? It's a bit rude, you know."

Again, he watched the two of them exchange glances, and again there was that inexplicable pain in his hearts.

"We'll try to do it less," said Rose contritely, not exactly a denial. She nestled against her Doctor, who had unfolded his arms and had one now circling her waist. The two fit together well—they always had—and how it hurt the timelord to see the evidence so clearly before him. He had always run from it before, only indulged in hugs and nothing more. Now there was no place left to run.

"Where am I going then?" asked Rose, looking at her Doctor, a smile around her lips. "The infirmary?"

"It depends," said the human Doctor, and his face was free of mirth. He didn't look at Rose, but directed a somber gaze toward the full blooded timelord.

"I need the Chameleon Arch."


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: _To refresh memories, the Chameleon Arch was used in Russell T Davies' Series Three story arc as a device that turned the Doctor and the Master into human beings. Its primary function was a biological one to change a person from one species to another—something I think we can agree involves rewriting the DNA. I hope the reasons for using this machine in this chapter are clear, and I have taken the liberty of re-locating the machine to the TARDIS infirmary. Enjoy._

* * *

"This may hurt a little, Rose." Her Doctor's voice was heavy with worry and regret. His hands were gentle even has they lowered a heavy headset onto her head. Rose sucked in a breath as her neck slowly took the weight. There were spikes pricking into her scalp. "I'd do it another way if I could."

"I know," breathed Rose. They'd already tried to make her as comfortable as possible. There was a padded and reclining dentist's chair beneath her, thankfully without the bright lights or scary implements in her face, unless you counted the headset. She wiggled her fingers reassuringly on the armrests.

"Why the Chameleon Arch?" asked the new Doctor. He watched all this from one side, pulling faces of anxiety and dread.

"It's the only thing we have that will let us examine her on the DNA level in real time," said Rose's Doctor. "Of course, I'm writing it a new program for this purpose, we don't need to turn her into a new species." Her Doctor fussed about the straps, securing the headset under her chin. She tried to capture his gaze with a smile. His brown eyes behind his glasses were distracted with his work, but when he finally looked at her, he did give her jaw a quick and gentle stroke of his fingers. Then he was at the machine's monitor, tapping furiously upon the keys. Rose couldn't see the screen, but she could see some of its reflection in his glasses.

The new Doctor wandered over beside him, and Rose watched as the two of them stared gravely at the screen. There was a bit of hushed consultation between them occasionally, but her Doctor dominating the keyboard while the new Doctor directed some worried glances her way.

"Are you ready?" asked her Doctor.

"Ready and waiting," said Rose. The headset wasn't comfortable, but at least she'd gotten used to wearing it.

"Wait," said new Doctor, ignoring the other as he came to Rose's side. He was tall, and lowered himself to his knees to be level with her. His hands hovered near hers nervously, then rested near hers on the armrest without touching. "I'm here, Rose," he offered shyly.

She looked at him wonderingly, then over at her Doctor, whose shoulders seemed to hang in both trepidation and resignation. Just how badly was this going to hurt?

"I'm sorry, Rose," her Doctor said, a fingering hovering over one key. "Here we go. One, tw—"

Rose gasped as pain radiated from points around her crown, accelarating in intensity that took time for her to comprehend. She realised that several needles were penetrating into her, that was nothing compared to the spikes before. _"Ahhh..." _She tried to breathe around the pain, but it was hard.

"You're fine, you're fine." A touch on her hand distracted her momentarily and allowed her to breathe. It was the new Doctor's long fingers now on and around hers even as she gripped the armrests like a vice. His skin was cool. She'd forgotten that, how the timelord's body temperature had always seemed slightly cooler than human.

"Are you alright, Rose?" Her Doctor's voice rose above the sound of her roaring blood and thumping heart.

She had to take a few breaths to answer. "_Owwww,"_ she said accusingly. The bite in her voice made the new Doctor lift his hand from hers, and she shot him an angry glance. He looked at her in confusion before replacing his hand on hers. Satisfied with his cool touch back on her skin, she looked away.

"It's going to stay at this level for a while. I'm sorry," her Doctor apologised again. "It won't get better till it's over, but you might get used to..." His voice trailed off, overtaken by the tapping of his fingers on the keys.

Rose grit her teeth and concentrated on breathing, glancing at the new Doctor beside her every so often. He was awkwardly trying to divide his attention between her and the other Doctor, and trying _so hard_ not to look at their hands. Rose noted distractedly that it was her left hand under his. Why wasn't this pain going away? _Breathe_. _Ow. Breathe. _The seconds seemed like hours. Her Doctor was wearing a frown on his face, a frown of perplexity.

_Is this how the silent talking works, then?_

A new voice slithered into her consciousness, surprising her from the pain for a moment. She looked at the new Doctor, whose eyes were... grey and changing and curious. The voice in her head was his. Her hand under his was the left—the one with the wedding band. Pain and anger flashed inside Rose.

_Not yours,_ she shot back reflexively, referring to the ring. He had no right to play with it to discover its capabilities. He lifted his hand from hers, breaking contact and communication, and the re-insertion of the pain upon her consciousness made her gasp. After a few more breaths, she replayed her own words in her head. _Not yours._ No wonder he had now stood up and was avoiding her gaze.

"I don't understand this," said her Doctor's voice, as if it was an admission of defeat.

"I'm human, right?" Rose asked smugly despite the pain. "Normal? No 'consequences'?"

"Looks like it."

"Can I get out of this now?"

"We're not done. I need..." The human Doctor slowed in his words, overtaken by reluctance.

"Must we?" asked the new Doctor.

"I need to know. And we just need to be careful with it..."

"With what?" gritted Rose in impatience.

"Vortex energy, Rose. And could you _please_ not bring in Bad Wolf?"

"I'll try. For goodness' sake, Doctor, _get on with it!"_

Her Doctor grunted an assent as he padded quickly away from the monitor and out of her vision. He was leaving the infirmary, probably for the TARDIS console. The new Doctor took over at the monitor, gazing at the screen without expression, keeping his distance again.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Rose said. Her voice sounded hard with pain.

The new Doctor looked surprised, but still kept his gaze on the screen. "I intruded," he said, "I should be the one apologising." He was silent a moment. "Third wheel in my own ship," he said almost conversationally. "That also happened when Amy and Rory were here."

"But you had River in here too," said Rose. Two couples in the TARDIS. She could do the math, though she wasn't sure if the Doctor could.

"Ah, River." He paused, and his next words were slowly given. "You of all people should know the distance I like to keep, Rose."

"Then you haven't learned." Rose was surprised at herself. Maybe pain made her snappy.

"Learned what?" His eyebrows were raised in surprise.

Rose dropped the conversation for a bit, reeling with pain. She tried to breathe, but tiredness was setting in. The words she needed to answer were not there. The new Doctor must have read her pain, for he was by her side again, this time holding her arms firmly, steadying her. "Not long now, Rose. You can do this. If anyone can, it's you." That did help, actually. She fought down a whine as she tried anew to breathe.

"Here! Got it!" Her Doctor burst back into the room, waving the familiar thermos flask in triumph. Rose could only guess it it contained part of the Vortex, not tea. If he had any reaction to the new Doctor's proximity to her, it didn't show.

"Two sugars, please," breathe Rose through gritted teeth, and both Doctor smiled grimly at her humour.

"Are we making her drink it?" asked the new Doctor skeptically.

"No! But _we_ should step back. Maybe just opening the thermos should be enough. That's all, Rose. You can do this, it'll be quick." Her Doctor passed the thermos to the new Doctor, then squeezed her hand as best as he could. "Whatever happens, Rose, you're safe. Not feeling great, but remember, _safe." _He put emphasis on the word, before returning to the monitor and keyboard. "When you're ready," he said, gesturing to the new Doctor.

"Here goes," said the younger-looking man, opening the thermos at arm's length. He offered it before Rose's face gingerly.

Rose didn't expect anything. She paid the thermos as much attention as if it were holding soup she didn't want right now, except it was shining, swirling, golden soup that was awfully pretty. It wasn't doing anything for her. She tried once again to just ignore the discomfort from the headset and breathe.

"Safe, remember, Rose. Safe..." Her Doctor's voice trailed off again as it did before, but this time he wasn't typing on the keyboard. She looked at him, and all she saw was his mouth agape, and his glasses lit up by the flashing points on the screen.

"I feel the same as ever," said Rose.

He gave no answer. And the new Doctor was fairly dancing on his feet in curiousity, obviously torn between holding the flask to her face and running to the screen too.

"May I?" he finally asked the air, before he put the flask at Rose's side, cradled securely by the armrest. "Be right back," he said to Rose, and to the flask: "Stay, Vortex, stay." And then he was off to the monitor as well. Upon seeing the screen, his eyebrows nearly shot to the ceiling.

The ensuing conversation between the two Doctors was somewhat sparse:

"Is that...?"

"Yup."

"Are those...?"

"Yup." Rose's Doctor then gestured toward Rose. "Could you...?"

"Right."

The new Doctor padded back to Rose's side, hands fluttering and face full of wonder. He looked ridiculously like a young boy with a new train set, Rose couldn't help thinking. She was tired of feeling like a lab rat, and waited expectantly for the headset to be removed. But the new Doctor merely replaced the cap back on the thermos carefully, screwing it back on (all at arm's length), before placing it on a nearby counter and going back to the monitor.

"_Oh for heaven's sake," _Rose exclaimed. But the two gave no sign of having heard her, and were engrossed in the screen and their half-sentences again.

"How on earth...?"

"I don't know."

"Should we try again?"

Her Doctor shot her a quick glance. "Your call, mate," he said, quickly lowering his gaze again after encountering Rose's seething glare.

"In the interests of science, of course," said the new Doctor, retrieving the thermos of Vortex energy. He seemed oblivious to Rose's rising annoyance as he opened the flask and put it against her body again.

"Doctor..." Rose growled.

"Two seconds, Rose," the younger looking one said breezily, running back to the monitor, then whooping at the sight.

"How much longer again?" Rose asked pointedly. "What's going on?"

Neither spoke at first, but then her Doctor asked rather quietly. "How are you feeling _now_, Rose?"

"Mad at the two of you," said Rose.

"Anything else? Pain-wise?"

"I..." Rose stopped. The headset on her head was still pressing its weight on her, but the needles—were they still there? Oh yes, she could feel them, but the pain was tiny, barely there. Not even a pinprick really. And if she concentrated, she could get them to retract... _ah. That felt better. Much better. _She heard a deep intake of breath from both Doctors.

"That's it, then," her Doctor said, taking his eyes from the monitor at last.

"Can we get this off, now?" asked Rose.

"You could probably do that yourself. Would you like to try?" He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

It was such an odd question. "What?" asked Rose, touching her fingers to the strap beneath her chin. It seemed to fall open at her touch. Had he put this on properly at all? She put her hands on both sides of the headset and lifted it. It seemed lighter now. She took it off and sat up in the chair.

"Careful..." said her Doctor, rushing forward to her side. It wasn't the headset but the flask he was after, retrieving it before it fell from her lap. And he held it as if it contained something deadly, securing its cap again as quickly and carefully as he could.

"Could you...?" He addressed the other Doctor again and cocked his head toward Rose.

The headset in Rose's hands felt heavy again, and the new Doctor took it from her. He put it away carefully, and then her own Doctor was in front of her, his face looking rather serious. He peered into her eyes carefully, something she knew he was obsessed with after these episodes. "Hello," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hi," he said automatically, now putting his hands around her face, examining her crown and clinically brushing his fingers over her skin and hair.

"How did I do?"

"Bit grumpy for a patient."

That was fair enough. But she felt better now. "Sorry. Do I get a lolly from the doctor now though?" she asked. He was standing square in front of her, and she playfully reached into his pockets in a search.

"Oi." His face remained serious behind his glasses.

That was enough to stop her, and she sighed. "What did you see then?" she asked, as her Doctor seemed to complete the examination of her head. She smiled as he gave her a loose hug and kissed the top of her head when he was done.

"That you're beautiful inside and out," he said smoothly, as he released her and returned to the blasted monitor.

She rolled her eyes at the line and jumped off the dentist's chair. The new Doctor was watching them both as he leaned against a counter and seemed to be nibbling thoughtfully on a fingernail. He noticed Rose looking at him and managed a smile, but his eyes were sad. Rose looked away.

"Am I okay?" asked Rose. She wandered over the monitor screen, but had no idea how to understand the images she was looking at.

"More than okay. _Fantastically _okay. _Impossibly _okay."

"Are those medical terms?" she asked pointedly.

"Yep," said her Doctor with a smile in his voice.

"Still human?"

"Yep," said her Doctor. "I think."

"You _'think'?"_

"You are completely human and normal, Rose, until raw Vortex energy is in the vicinity. And then your so-called 'junk' DNA lights up like a bloody Christmas tree, arranges itself into coherence and patches up your original DNA helix in—well, like I said—rather beautiful ways."

Rose tried to understand this. "English, please?"

"That was as English as I could put it, Rose," said the Doctor. "Blimey," he added, after a thought.

"You become wicked fit," inserted the new Doctor helpfully.

Rose frowned. "You mean Bad Wolf?"

"Not always, apparently," said her Doctor. "Bad Wolf needs the TARDIS to play. You, Super Rose, just need Vortex energy."

"It explains quite a lot," said the new Doctor, and the two Doctors exchanged nods.

"Likely from that first time," said her Doctor, and they nodded again.

The Doctors' seeming newfound friendship was rather adorable, but Rose still struggled with the idea. "What do you mean 'Super Rose'?"

Her Doctor looked at her, and his eyes had the same sadness she'd seen in the new Doctor now. In answer, he went to one of the drawers in the room and retrieved a magnifying mirror. Rose looked at it awkwardly as he held it up to her. "No wrinkles," he pronounced. "And, you removed the Chameleon Arch from yourself almost purely by thought."

She looked at herself, then at her Doctor in disbelief, denial on her lips. But she couldn't make a sound, as his brown eyes looked so old now, and sad.

"You're going to outlive me, Rose. By a long, long time."


End file.
